


Sacrificial Lark

by zero4life



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Romance, Demon AU, Demon Blood, Demon Sex, Demon!Geralt, Demon/Human Relationships, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Geralt can't talk. Jaskier teaches him., Geralt has horns and fangs. (I had to), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Communicating, Happy Ending, Human Sacrifice, Interspecies Relationship(s), It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jaskier is 17, Language Barrier, M/M, Oral Sex, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rating: NC17, Ratings: R, Sacrifice, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Virgin Sacrifice, little bit slow burn, my heart aches for these two
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-19 06:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 38
Words: 117,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22473382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zero4life/pseuds/zero4life
Summary: For centuries, the village at the foot of the Rivia mountains has sacrificed a young virgin every five years to the demon that lives up there. These young girls are given to keep the peace and make certain that the demon won't come down to slaughter the livestock and the villagers. However, this year there is no pretty girl of the right age and beauty who is a virgin too. So the fates choose and befall Jaskier to be the sacrifice and satisfy the demon's hunger.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 822
Kudos: 2440
Collections: The Witcher Alternate Universes





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GloomyDays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloomyDays/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier is 17 at this point. Barely legal but legal so i didn't want to put up the under age tag. But he is quite young here. Old enough to be wise though.

Tears streaked across Julian's face as he bathed. He stayed in the tub for a long time. Not getting out until the water was almost ice cold. He just couldn't believe his village gave him up like that. Like the perfect solution to their problem. Or actually, less then perfect. 

Every five years a girl between the ages of 14 and 18 was chosen to be sacrificed to the demon on Rivia mountain. She had to be pretty and she had to be a virgin. Why? He didn't know. But there weren't many girls the right age this time. In fact, there had been only three. And in their desperation to escape the demon, one of them had thrown herself off a cliff, the second had brought a knife to her face to cut away her beauty and the third had let half the farmer's boys fuck her to take away her virginity. 

The truth of the matter was, there was no one left. None but the poor orphan boy that was fated to save the village. Julian didn't understand at first. He was the proper age of 17, a virgin and not bad looking yes... but he was no girl. So when the choice landed on him he had laughed. He laughed until he realized it was no joke. That's when the laughs turned to tears. It couldn't be! He told himself. But unfortunately, the same fate befell a boy five decades before, and it had been accepted as a decent replacement sacrifice. So Julian's fate was sealed. He would be offered to the demon tonight. 

He wanted to run, he wanted to escape, but he knew he couldn't. They had locked his door, guarded his windows and they would tie him up at the offering circle. All his possessions had been taken from him and already placed near the graveyard entrance where they would hold a funeral for him tomorrow. Without his body to bury. All he had been given was a white dress to wear. Since it should have been a girl instead. It was a bit big and it fell a little deep, exposing part of his chest. He put it on with trembling fingers. 

Then he waited. He waited for them to come for him and take him to his impending doom. Julian had stopped crying, but his eyes were still rimmed red and he was humming softly to soothe himself. The sky outside grew darker and darker and his heart raced up in his throat when the lock clicked. He was told it was time. Two men bound his hands together with rope and led him from the cabin. Outside a woman placed a flower crown on his head. Then they picked him up, carrying him so his bare feet wouldn't touch the ground. Drums were beating, people were praying and amidst all of it, Julian felt sick. 

His muscles tensed more as they drew closer to the offering circle, it was a short distance up on the foot of the mountain. The mere sight of it made the stomach acid rise in Julian's throat. But he forced himself to push it back down. He hummed to himself over the thundering sounds of the drums to stay calm. However as they approached the offering circle his eyes began to sting once more and he had to clench his jaw to stop himself from crying.

The white stones were covered in red stains ancient, old and new. In the years no human was offered they sacrificed animals here. And by the looks of it, none of them were left whole. The only clean stone was the one in the middle. It had an iron ring embedded in the stone to which Julian knew he would be tied down. There was a smaller white stone beneath it which he would be standing on. Women were busy laying flowers, food and wine at the foot of the stone. More offerings to satisfy the demon. There was fruit, meat, cheese and bread, wine and ale. There were buttercups, dandelions, lavenders, bluebells and wild roses. All arranged in a pyre with Julian to be the centerpiece. 

His heartbeat sped like a hare, running for its life. His skin littered with very fine goosebumps. Growing hot and cold as if he had contracted a fever. More dry tears were prickling behind his eyes. But Julian refused to cry. He refused to let the villagers know just how sad he was that they did away with him so easily. That not a single soul had even worded a protest on his fate as sacrifice. Even if someone had spoken up, and he was still chosen, it would be better then this. Not even the farmers couple who took care of him all these years had said a word. The man had gritted his teeth, and the woman had burst into silent tears and refused to look him in the eye after that. They were defeated by fate so easily. 

Julian shivered when he was put down, his bare feet touching the cold white stone that was the altar on which he would be presented. It wasn't terribly cold out, but it wasn't summer. The temperature did nothing to ease this night. Julian shivered in his white dress. And how his heartbeat raced in attempt to escape his fate. Yet there was nothing he could do. He thought of all the things he never got to do. All the dreams that were to be taken from him. The love for someone yet unknown that would be shattered. Whatever this demon would do to him, Julian prayed it would be swift and painless. But he knew better. He heard the stories, as every child did to be scared into obedience. Horrors of bedtime stories to keep the young away from the mountain and within the safety of the village. They promised nothing but agony. That was what he had to look forward to. The suffering that would save the village. The safety of many outweighing the safety of one.

The men who carried him and who had bound his hands now bound him to the stone. His hands brought above his head. Helpless against anything or anyone. They wouldn't look at him. Though Julian could see the pain in their eyes as they turned away. The drums still sounded and it reminded him that they only beat them so loud to chase their own fear away. Then the woman who took care of him broke from the crowd and climbed up to him. He looked at her with his soul searching blue eyes. And all she could do was cry. She kissed his head softly and whispered to him.

"Oh my little Lark. May the gods have mercy on you and bring you to their side. May you never know pain or sadness again."

He looked up at her, eyes dry but full of concern. If he was to die, he would no longer feel anything. But she would feel his absence for years to come. Even if she couldn't defend him, she had always been kind to him. And she didn't deserve to suffer for it.

"Don't cry Nana. Please. Just remember me the way i was. This never happened, my soul has left for the road like i always wanted. I'm happy. Truly. So please don't cry for me."

She sucked in a deep breath through her tears and nodded. Trying to steel herself like her brave boy had done. But she couldn't let go so easily. She cupped his head and looked at him.

"Oh my beautiful boy. For the time that i had you, you were my very own. Safe travels my Dandelion. How brave you are."

Julian smiled at her but a stern voice called the woman down.

"Woman!"

Her husband called. His face looking twisting somewhere between disappointment, disapproval and sadness. She climbed down quickly. Looking up at him one more time before her husband took her away. Pain stabbed into Julian's heart as he watched them go. They were not his real parents, but they had provided him a home. He would always be grateful for that. No matter how short he still had to live. 

Other women were singing the ritual song as one by one the villagers went by to add flowers or food or drink to the pile, touch the stone and move down the mountain. Not a single soul would look up to him. Not a single one of them dared to look him in the eye as they left him to be devoured by the demon. Their scapegoat. Their relief. They left him to die. 

When finally the last of them had passed the drums stopped. The silence that fell was deafening. Julian remembered he was old enough for the last sacrificial ritual and he had felt awful as he had laid flowers at the poor girl's feet. He had tried to give her a sympathetic smile, to soothe her and give her some form of acknowledgement. But she had tugged her ropes until she bled. Cried and screamed and yelled. Begging forgiveness for non existing sins. Begging for her freedom, begging for her life. As the drums had stopped, her cries could be heard far down the path, until they faded out of range. Julian shivered at the memory. Now that he stood where she had, he understood her vigor. He understood the urge, the need to scream, cry, beg for anyone to let him go. Let him get off this rock. To save him from his impending death. But he pursed his lips together and let the silence carry on. He didn't cry, didn't scream, he did not beg.

By the time he was left alone tied to the great stone in the middle of the offering circle, the sky had become black. Two torches, left and two right, were the only thing illuminating him and all the offerings. The soft breeze caught the skirt of his dress as it danced around his legs softly. The wait was endless. Maddening torture. Even more so than the silence, and his thoughts began to drift. What did the demon even look like? There were stories, but none of the descriptions ever matched another. And each was more monstrous then the last. Would it have horns? Would it have glowing eyes? Fangs? Claws? Did it have wings or a tail? Was it big enough to swallow him whole? No one had ever seen it and lived to tell the tale. Foolish warriors and hunters had gone up to slay it, they were never seen again. 

It was rumored to be nothing more then a beast. Void of all human thoughts, feelings and emotions. Why was it then, that it asked for pretty things? That it could be bribed with flowers and food and drink and a human warm and alive instead of blood and meat and other horrible things. Or was that a mere human invention to push down the fear of this demon being nothing more then a mindless beast? 

* * *

Stars were now twinkling above the trees. And Julian shivered in his white dress. It was getting cold. It started to bite at his feet and his wrists hurt. What if the demon didn't come for him at all? Julian took a shaky breath and softly started to sing to himself. What else could he do to pass the time? It was a song he had made himself on a summer's day. Dreaming of a future that now seemed out of reach. It seemed bittersweet now. But it calmed him. 

_*Tell everybody I'm on my way_

_New friends and new places to see_

_The sun's shining high and I'm on my way_

_And there's nowhere else that I'd rather be_

Julian could imagine himself on the road, Lute in his hands, strumming while singing and walking on a warm summer day towards a new destination. When he closed his eyes he could almost feel it.

_*Tell everybody I'm on my way_

_And i just can't wait to be there-_

Then a twig snapped and the words were caught in his throat. His blue eyes snapped open. Another twig snapped, closer and on the left, and Julian turned his head. It was here. The demon had come for him. At this point, it would have been logical to start screaming in terror, but Julian was silent. Squinting his eyes, trying to get a look at the demon, moving between the trees. He couldn't see much but from what he could see, it was that the demon was not a giant beast. In fact Julian had imagined it to be bigger. It almost looked.... like the shape of a man. 

Had someone come to rescue him in secret? Had one of the villagers decided this whole thing had gone far enough? But then the figure stepped into the light of the torches and Julian forgot to breathe. 

The figure was cloaked, but from beneath the hood white silver locks fell tucked beneath the string of a wolf mask that hid its face but not its glowing golden eyes. Amber and yellow swirled together brighter than even the flames of the torches. Its form was large, muscled and there was a deformity in the shape of its hood. _it does have horns..._ Julian thought. It had a large basket on its back and without regard for Julian, it started to fill up the basket with the food and drink. 

Wait.... this couldn't be the demon. Maybe it was a thief? Or... something. Julian dared not ask. He watched with both confusion and fascination as the figure packed everything it could. When the basket was full, it looked up. Julian quickly looked away. Not wanting to let it know he had been staring. He heard rustling, felt the figure step onto the rock and untie the knot of the rope. It was standing so close Julian could feel the heat coming from its body and a faint scent of forrest moss, burning wood and an irony tinge of blood drifted his way. Apart from the scent of blood, Julian had expected worse. Much worse. Which also confused him. 

Then again he didn't wish to count himself lucky just yet. What if this creature was only send on behalf of the demon to collect and bring the offerings to its lair? Julian couldn't decide what to think of this yet. Not until he knew more. He was brought down from the rock. None too gently. His hands still bound, then he yelped as the creature tossed him over his shoulder like a dead deer and took the basket and started walking. Julian tensed with the hand around his legs keeping him from slipping and the broad shoulder he laid across on. The figure was tall and muscular. And Julian could feel the sting of its nails around his ankles. It was simply undignified. Being carried like this. Julian didn't agree at all. But he didn't dare trash or demand to be put down so he could walk. He didn't dare say or do anything.

Instead he focused. There was a low rumble coming from the demon from time to time. Soft labored breaths and huffs too. Julian could feel the muscles move beneath the cloak. The walk up took a long time, at some point, Julian started to drift to the low rumble coming from the demon, then he fell asleep and the flower crown slipped from his head.

* * *

How much time had passed, Julian couldn't say. But he was rudely awoken and startled when the demon unceremoniously dumped him onto a soft bed of furs in a place that looked like the inside of a cave. Julian looked around wide eyed. It almost looked just like a home. There were makeshift shelves, a fire pit, the bed he was laying on. It was all very primitive but it served its purpose. Curiosity overtook the boy as he sat up and took a good view of his surroundings. The beast moved to a couple of shelves in the back that had some resemblance of a pantry and put the basket down there too. This wasn't at all what Julian expected a demon lair to look like. He had expected bones and blood and filth and stench. Death, he had expected death. But this? This was almost civilized. 

Then from the corner of his eye he saw the cloak drop and a gasp left him. The white hair was partially tied back and from it, three, no four, imposing equally white horns rose up, one of which was broken and missing its tip. His sharp gasp made the beast turn his head with a snap. It was still wearing the wolf mask. It took three, possibly four steps to stride up to the bed. So fast it made Julian scoot back to avoid impact. He didn't get far with his hands tied however. A displeased growl followed and before he knew it, Julian was pushed over onto his stomach, hands still tied and held down above his head. Now Julian was really sure that this creature was the demon people feared. If its behavior didn't show it then the claw holding down his hands did. The nails were short but sharp and the hand was so large it almost covered Julian's small hands bound together. 

The boy froze to the feeling of something near his neck. Growling the demon seemed to take in his scent. Sniffing him while the hand that didn't hold him took the skirt of the dress and yanked it up. Julian felt the cold air hit his legs, the inside of his knees and higher up still. Now his backside was exposed and apart from the smallclothes he had under the dress he was bare to the demon's touch. Julian squirmed. Uncomfortable but still wise enough not to start screaming. Opening his mouth now would probably only cause him more pain. His wrists were getting itchy and red from the rope around them. It was slowly starting to burn into his skin. But he worried more for what the beast would do to him. Then he heard something rip and felt his bottom hit by a surge of cold air. Suddenly it started to dawn on him why all the victims to this beast had to be virgins. But... surely he wasn't going to... He was NOT a girl! How would that even-

oh. OH. no no no no no that wasn't going to work. No. No that couldn't work. Surely the demon had more sense then to- But no matter how much he wished he was wrong, Julian felt the claw on his inner thigh, spreading his legs further apart. He was going to get fucked before he was going to be devoured. Mounted like a heated bitch in mating season! He had been wise enough not to struggle before, but if he was going to get killed he preferred it without the detour. He had some dignity left!

"Wait. please.. Just- just hold on a sec-"

Julian started to struggle. In a poor attempt to close his legs he discovered the creature was seated between them. And the hand holding him down was so strong Julian couldn't move away. He tried to turn around which only earned him a more displeased growl, and then a threatening one. Damn it all to hell, if he was going to die he would not be threatened by a- Pain shot up his shoulder as the claw holding down his hands yanked them up higher, bringing his body closer to the floor, pushing him down with the other claw, the nails biting into his shoulder. 

He felt something tickle his skin, a wet patch growing in the white of his dress and he knew he was bleeding. It hurt and the pain once again held him still. The sting of tears returned for the first time since he was taken away from the offering circle and Julian did nothing to stop them this time. It hurt. Not just the physical pain. But all he ever thought he would have in live was being taken from him brutally by a beast that didn't even speak! He had imagined his virginity being taken by someone older, someone with more experience. Man, woman, it didn't really matter. But he had imagined them gentle, and sweet. Allowing him to learn all about pleasure under their guidance. Not like this. Not rough and forced and under the hold of someone who cared only for their own needs. Not with only death to look forward to. Julian cried for it. For his shattered dreams and his lost hopes. Shoving his face down in the fur beneath him to muffle the sound. Something pushed against the seam of his ass and Julian clenched his eyes shut, mentally trying to prepare for whatever would follow.

"Don't-"

It slid towards his hole and then the pressure increased. Fuck... Too big. It would never fit. Not like that. The demon would tear him in half! Julian took the fur beneath his face between his teeth, finding something to bite down on. He heard a growl above him. Unable to identify the kind he felt surprise take him as the pressure disappeared along with the demon's cock pressing against his ass. Instead he yelped into the fur in pain and surprise as something smaller breached him. Which felt a lot like one of the large digits from the beast's claws. It hurt. The claws were big enough to already make Julian feel faint at the pressure. He squirmed, unable to keep still. Which tightened the claw that was holding down both his hands. It hurt so much. 

Then the digit moved, none too gently. Setting up a pace too fast and too rough for it to feel good and Julian worried the nail would stab him in places with the rough movement. It burned against his walls and he wished it would stop. But the demon pressed on. A second finger added too soon made Julian groan in discomfort and pain. Forcing all of his sounds into the fur beneath him to keep them quiet. If it was screams of pain and fear the demon wanted, he'd have better luck with the girls that came before. Julian refused to scream or cry out loud or audibly suffer at the demon's hands. This beast that violated him wasn't going to win. Perhaps it was a foolish thing to be so stubborn and so brave. Perhaps it wouldn't leave him satisfied and call its wrath out over the village. But Julian was pretty sure he was going to die after this, if not during this torture. And so he gathered all the courage he could muster and tore into the fur below him with his teeth. Pushing down the bile rising in his throat, pushing down the sounds of agony, pushing down the urge to plead for his life. He swallowed it all. 

Then oh sweet hollow feeling. If only for a second. When the demon withdrew and all was bliss and gone for but a moment. Julian took a breath, for he felt that he could. Which was sadly cut into a sharp gasp when the pressure increased once again. And no that wasn't the claw returning. This time he knew it was the demon mounting him. He felt its cock push its way inside. Forcing his tight walls to make room. It was too much, too full. The stretch hurt and Julian thought he had torn down there. Deeper and deeper it slid inside and the boy helplessly clawed at the furs to hold on for dear life. His own heartbeat thundering in his ears nearly drowned out the groans and growls above him as the demon kept pushing in. It went too deep, too far and Julian felt as if it would come up his throat if the brute kept going. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. _Great..._ He thought. _I will be fucked to death._

There was no pause, no breath to take, no time to brace. The demon above him started to pull out with a grunt and for a second, false hope spread in Julian's mind. That perhaps the beast knew this wasn't going to work. That it found the space to cramped, the passage too tight. Or that it would go back to trying to loosen him more. Oh how wrong he was. The only reason the demon pulled back was to shove his cock back in with a brutal thrust. All the way. Julian felt the urge to vomit strongly, but he pushed it down and tried to inhale the moment the demon drew back again. He managed a sharp breath before it was slammed out of him again. He braced, holding the furs between his fingers, knuckles turning white in their grip. The beast slammed into him again and again. The pain that spread with every thrust made tears sting in Julian's eyes. Even though he had cried so much hours before, he thought he hadn't any tears left to give. 

Any attempt to regulate his breathing seemed almost useless under this rough and punishing pace. Julian tried to breathe in every time the demon drew back, but he felt he barely got any air in at all before it was slammed out of him again. Black spots started to adorn his vision. He felt like he was on the verge of passing out. _this is it._ He thought. _This is how i die._ _Speared onto a cock._ The demon let go of his arms only to pull his hips up and slam into him harder. Holding him so tight the fingertips started to leave dark spots on his hips and the nails dug crescent moons above them. Like a tattoo, patterned on this sacrificial lamb that had been offered to him. The pain only subsided to be replaced by nothing at all. Julian felt numb. He saw something fall from the corner of his eye. It looked like the wolf mask the demon had been wearing. And then he felt a set of teeth on his shoulder, digging in. Pain spread first, fast an sharp like a bee sting. Fangs scraped his skin and the blood poured from his shoulder. The last thing Julian felt before he passed out was a throaty growl released against his skin, heat filling him in liquid form and a tongue dragging across the bite on his shoulder. _This is it..._ He thought. _Now i die._ And then everything turned black.

* * *

Now the fire is out and light pours into the cave when Julian opens his eyes again. Confusion spreads through him first, then pain. As he attempts to move, all of his muscles protest and are sore. Pain shoots up from his bottom and his wrists ache. There is a dull stinging on his shoulder and he can feel the fabric of his once white dress stick to him in certain places. He hisses and curls up in an attempt to dull the pain, then he discovers that his wrists are no longer tied. The rope is gone. Something lays on top of him. When he looks he finds a blanket of furs draped over him and his dress tugged back over his body to cover him. Wide eyed he sits up and hisses at the sting of pain that nearly forces him to lay back down again. He looks around but there is no sight of the demon. The mask is gone, so is the cloak and the basket sits empty in the corner while the food and drink are stacked on the shelves in the back. 

Everything that happened the night before comes back in flashes. Julian still feels the sting of teeth on his shoulder and the rough abuse of his backside and all he can wonder is: _Why am i not dead?_ For a second he worries that maybe this is because the demon isn't satisfied. But... then why aren't his hands tied anymore? Why was he covered and put to bed in a way, instead of tossed aside like some rag doll only to be used again whenever the demon would want him? Question after question raises to Julian's mind. Where did the demon go? Why was Julian left here? Maybe he could run away? To test the amount of damage done, Julian tries to stand. And quickly finds that he can't run even if he tried. He can barely walk as it is. He feels dirty, used, in pain. There is dried blood on him, dirt and _oh god i don't want to know what's sliding down my thighs._ He needs a bath. And food. His stomach growls and he shivers.

It's cold up here and the white dress doesn't exactly keep him warm. Julian pulls the fur blanket around him, finding it soft and comfortable. Then he turns to the pantry. Shuffling, bit by bit further into the cave. Slowly to try and keep the pain to a minimum. The ground does nothing to improve his situation. It's cold and bites at his feet. Still Julian curiously shuffles further into the demon's home and takes a look at the shelves and the food on them. There he finds a loaf of bread, a ham which he tears a bit from, and cheese, which he also tears a piece from. Setting his teeth into it he sighs and groans in delight as the cheese melts onto his tongue. It allows him the knowledge of how famished he really is and he takes a greedy bite of the ham. He searches the shelves for a drink but nearly all of it is ale or wine. There is no water. So he takes a small bottle of ale that smells the most watery and takes a sip. The bitterness caresses his tongue but he is too thirsty to put it down. It'll have to do. 

With his breakfast he shuffles back towards the main area. Taking in his surroundings. All of the wooden additions to the cave look self made. The carvings on the shelves are beautiful and intricate. It looks like nothing Julian has ever seen before. Especially the patterns and markings carved onto them. If it is a language, it is a language that he doesn't know existed. Above the fire pit there's a hole for the smoke to escape through, right now it shows a bit of blue sky. There are two wooden foot stools next to it and below the bed of furs there is a small wooden platform so the furs are not directly on the ground. It's all very simple but well thought of. Even a bit impressive for a Demon. Slowly his tour of the cave comes to an end while he eats, and as he downs the last of his breakfast he slowly walks towards the exit. Hopefully there is something of a stream nearby so he can wash up. Stepping into the blinding light of the sun he feels a bit better already. Now with some food and drink in his stomach he thinks he's brave enough to face the day again. Outside he looks around and discovers tracks of an animal. They look like hooves but they are larger then that of a normal horse and there are scorch marks in every step. 

The amazement doesn't end there. The entrance of the cave seems to be overgrown with wild vines and ivy. Pushing through to the other side is easy but turning back to the entrance it almost looks like there is no cave at all. Just a few openings on the sides and up top would betray that there is more behind the greenery then one would think. If you didn't know or realize that it would be easy to overlook. The view outside is that of the mountainside forest, going on and on for miles and miles on end. Showing nothing but greenery far and wide in various shades and colors. There are wild flowers littered over the forest floor, turning everything into a colorful painting. These are larger and healthier looking then the ones down by the village. Which reminds Julian... The demon didn't take those? Maybe they use those for the funeral...

His stomach turns a bit at the thought. Just the mere idea of his adoptive parents having to bury his things and no body, not even having proof of his death other then his disappearance, makes him sad. He can imagine it being so much worse for parents who have to do that for their own blood related child. They don't even know he isn't dead... Julian frowns. He isn't dead. Why isn't he dead? This is all so confusing. Nothing makes sense. Nothing is like the stories the villagers tell of the Demon. They certainly didn't tell anyone that it resembles a man! And... if he isn't dead... What happened to the girls? Did they survive too? Did they escape? Did he let them go? Where are they now? 

A soft breeze shakes Julian from his thoughts and toys with the skirt of his white dress. Right... His not so white dress. He needs a bath. Julian looks around. He has no idea where he is apart from knowing this is the demon's lair. And he worries that if he goes too far he might not find the way back. But he also really craves a dip in a stream. Cold or not. He turns left and slowly starts walking. His body hurts less now that he has been moving for a bit. The soreness slowly lifting. And yet the bruises on his hips and the teeth mark on his shoulder still sting. Barefoot he walks further, trying to find things, specific landmarks he can use to find his way back. Maybe he is mad for wanting to remember. Maybe if someone were to be here with him they would be yelling at him, screaming that he shouldn't go back there. Not after what the demon did. But truthfully, where else can he go? It's a long trek down the mountain. And even if he could make it down to the village, they probably already 'buried' him by now. They probably wouldn't see it as a good sign anyway. Him surviving meant ill fate for the rest of the village. 

Julian shakes his head as he walks on, humming the song he has composed for if he would one day hit the road and become a bard like he wanted since he was two years old. What else can he do? Then the sound of soft rippling water makes it to his ears. He follows it. Pushing through a few bushes to find a small stream with fresh water. Julian carefully dips his toes in. It's cold, but not freezing. This could do nicely. He takes off the fur blanket and carefully drapes it over a nearby branch. Then he takes off the dress. Noticing the red patches in the shoulder and the hips. He doesn't really want to put it back on, since it will remind him of what transpired last night. But right now he has nothing else to wear. His small clothes were ripped off and no where to be found in the morning so this is all he has to cover himself. His sacrificial dress. Julian snorts. Oh it may turn him into a mythical maiden yet. 

Naked, he steps into the stream with the white dress in his hands. He puts the fabric in the cold water, trying to clean out the red stains. They won't leave completely, but eventually it looks like a splash of wet dust rather then dried blood. Satisfied he hangs the dress from another branch to dry and steps back into the stream to wash himself. Softly humming and singing as he carefully tends to his wounds. The less pleasant thing to do is to clean up his bottom from the previous abuse. But he does it without complaining to no one in particular. Not even to himself. All he can hope for is that the demon is satisfied enough to leave the village alone. All he really wants is that him surviving is not a bad thing. He doesn't even know where the demon is. It could be wreaking havoc on the town already. Julian shakes it from his mind. He can't think about that right now. 

Once he is done bathing he wants to go see if the white dress is dry yet, but when he reaches the branch, the dress is gone. Julian quickly turns to the fur blanket and thank the gods it's still there. He wraps it around his now shivering body and looks around. A white cloth can't just have disappeared. Maybe it fell? He searches but the dress is truly gone. Frowning he turns back to the stream, just to be sure he didn't leave it by the water. Then his eyes spot something else. Folded on a stone lays something blue. Julian draws closer to see what it is. Gasping as he unfolds a pair of breeches, a creme colored shirt and a blue vest. These.... these are his clothes! This is his favorite set of clothes! This has to be magic! There's no other way those could end up here. There's even another set of small clothes. Julian doesn't think about it, he happily puts on the clothing and once again feels like himself. Now if he only had his Lute... 

Still.. Even in his own clothes it's still a bit chilly out. And he still has bare feet to walk on. Turning to the fur blanket he lifts it and swings it around his shoulders. It's soft and comfortable and he loves it. Walking back up to the little path that he took to get down here he finds a set of prints that he knows he didn't leave. Julian doesn't know much of tracking, but his bare feet leave quite a different set of prints then the hooves and scorch marks he has seen before. There's a set of fur boots standing by the side of the path. Abandoned. Julian frowns but stalks towards them. Curious he sizes them up and... they are the right size. He puts them on and, they fit. Though they are slightly bigger then they look and therefore not the perfect size, but big boots are better then no boots. Something dawns on him. Maybe all this time he only thought he was alone. Maybe the Demon has been watching him. But then why does it hide? Why do this? Why give him his own clothes and care for him? Almost as if.. As if... As if it is trying to apologize? No. No way. That's wishful thinking. Or is it? 

"Hello?"

Julian calls out anyway. The only reply is birds chirping and the rustling of the breeze through the leaves. Julian frowns and he starts to walk back to the cave. He has to stop and look around a few times. Not only to admire the beautiful view, but to get a pinpoint of his location. To see if he can recognize the path back. In the end the only thing that does not allow him to get lost are the scorched tracks. When he reaches the cave he takes a deep breath to steady himself. What happened last night was... not okay. And he doesn't know how much of it will come back to haunt him if he comes face to face with his captor. A part of him is angry. But a part of him also wants to understand. And frankly he doesn't know what he will do if he sees the demon. He braces himself for... something. Anything. But when he enters the cave, he is still alone. He still has a chance to run, a chance to leave and never come back. Any sane person would. But Julian pulls a smile on his face and shakes his head. _A Sane person would be content as a farmer, and here i was wanting to be a bard._

He looks around and sees the furs on the bed have been replaced and cleaned, there's a small fire going again and a few lavenders thrown in the fire to spread the smell throughout the cave. Julian stalks over to the pantry, snatches an apple and goes back to the bed, where his eyes fall on a delicate instrument.

"My Lute!"

Sitting down, He puts the apple beside him and caresses the strings carefully. Now if he only had parchment and a quill. ooh and ink. Not to forget the ink. He sighs and sits and plucks the strings softly. Trying to remember all the little tunes he had composed thus far. Every now and then he nurses the fire and he wonders where the demon is. There are some spare logs near the wall. Julian tends to the fire and sings to himself as his habit allows, accompanied by the soft notes of his Lute. Never ever did he think being captured by a demon could make you feel.... bored. But then again, Never would anyone but Julian be so stupid as to return to the home of their abuser. They would take what they could and they would run. Far and fast. If he had any sense he would too. But something pulled him back here. The clothes and the way he was covered up, and the Lute being here... It didn't make much sense. Him being alive doesn't make much sense. And partly Julian returned because he wants answers, Partly because he feels drawn here.

Julian sighs and takes the apple, twisting the core in his hand once he's done eating. He plucks the seeds from it and turns them over in his hands. Nana always said that the mountain soil was no good. And that they were lucky that the fruit trees near the village were doing well enough. But even with a lot of hard work, they never gave off a large amount of fruit. Just two baskets in every tree. Three if they were lucky. But the flowers up here seem so much healthier then the ones below by the village. He wonders... 

Then footsteps sound and against the light of the setting sun, a large shadow appears. The demon has returned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the song is an OST from Brother Bear called 'On my way' and i thought it would kind of fit with Jaskier's wish to travel and his positive and cheerful spirit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never before had the demon met someone so fearless or felt something so strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This wonderful piece of artwork was created by the incredible and talented; Teddylacroix who gave me permission to repost it in the fitting chapter.
> 
> She posted with this quote from the chapter on Tumblr:  
>  _And what he saw nearly made him drop to his knees and beg forgiveness in every way he knew. The boy sat there, clad in his blue outfit, which made his eyes light up like sapphires. His angelic voice filled the air as he sat and his fingers gently coaxed at the strings of the instrument he was holding and it sang beneath his fingertips so pure and beautifully. Only complimenting the purity of his voice. His brown hair was messy yet looked soft and smelled clean and it crowned him like gold would adorn a king's head. This pure image shook the demon. Because he knew that this pure soul was now tainted. By his hand and his body forced upon the innocence that was this little angel. The gods must have had mercy on him by sending him this boy, and he spat in their faces by abusing him._

  
**Made by:[Teddylacroix](https://teddylacroix.tumblr.com/) **(Go check out her [blog](https://teddylacroix.tumblr.com/)/[Sideblog](https://jaskierpankratz.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!)

* * *

It's not that it had really been a spoken agreement. But for centuries these farmers left offerings at the place where their ancestors had battled the same demon they now feared. Truth be told people used to be bolder. Not that it was fun having to fight for your life just because you were different and spoke a language that no one seemed to understand anymore. The ancient ones had helped mankind to cultivate their farms, take care of their cattle and invent new things. Allowing their settlements to thrive. And what was their reward? They were forgotten, shunned and even hated. Called demons instead of gods and were slain and exiled for trying to help these greedy creatures. Mankind was rotten. 

So how could he feel sorry for using this arrangement to his own benefit? How could he not blame the humans for having to give up their own to sate him? And yet, it hurt. Every time another girl screamed her lungs out in fear for him. He never liked them. All these human sacrifices. These virgins. What was he suppose to do with a bitch that wouldn't stop crying or screaming and reeked of fear? It angered him. Mostly so because fear was one of his triggers. He couldn't control it. Each time one of these girls covered in the stench of fear ended up beneath his claws he transformed and blacked out. He usually didn't wake until there was hardly anything left of them and afterwards he always felt sick. He wasn't like other ancient spirits. He didn't enjoy hurting them. He didn't enjoy killing them. But he did each time because his nature demands it. An enactment of revenge for what the humans had done to the old gods. Or so he was told. His own mother had exiled him from her arms with the knowledge that they were made into monsters by the humans. That he and other spirits were highly territorial to the point of lethal because humans had introduced them to bloodshed. 

And yet, he felt sick and guilty about it all. Centuries ago he tried to take only the food and drink on offer for him. He left the girl where she was and returned home without her. Only to discover that the people of the village below feared that she had condemned them all for not pleasing the demon, and they stoned her to death. Humans... were a despicable race. The next girl on offer he took against his will, He thought he could save her from the same fate. But she had been so afraid he barely made it up the mountain before turning into a monster and killing her. Stoning might have been merciful compared to what he did to her. He struggled with this every time.

It was trial and error. And it took him several tries to get it right. But eventually he set himself to carrying the girls all the way passed his home, cutting them loose and telling them to run south as fast as they could and never ever to come back. If he hid his face beneath the wolf mask he made the stench of fear would be reduced. If he wore the cloak he was less likely to turn into his beastial form. He wore a charm around his neck, a wolf's medallion to put his beast urges to sleep. So he was kept from killing for at least a century. Even then sometimes the transformation burned under his skin powerful enough to fight all the relics he put on to prevent it and he had to fight it to keep himself from turning into the monster they all thought he was. Sometimes he lost, because the beast in him was clever enough to break free from the items he used to tame it. Once or twice in a century, he killed a girl. When she smelled too strongly and feared too much, when she wouldn't stop begging and his senses were overtaken by all the wrong signals. He felt sick about it afterwards. He never allowed himself to forget about them. He buried their bones and prayed for their souls in ancient tongue, asking for mercy for the poor victims of his nature's wrath. And always feared he would add a face more.

Until this fateful night. When he came down to collect his offerings. The first thing he heard as he approached the circle, was singing. Not crying, not screaming, nor sobbing, nor begging. But a soft voice singing a song, a happy song. One meant for the road. Not meant for... _this._ It made him halt in his tracks. Although perhaps a step too late. Because a twig snapped under his fur boots and the singing stopped. The demon had turned his head to the wind and sniffed. A strange feeling nesting between the dread and the control. Silently plucking away at both. There was sandalwood, buttercups and pine. There was an accelerated heartbeat. He could smell the salt of tears, sadness, bitterness. Even a hint of anger. But.... No fear. 

The demon couldn't get his hopes up. Knowing fully well that stench might still come if he got closer. But as he did, even when he stepped into the torch light, there was still no scent of fear. Not as he filled the basket, not as he looked up and saw... a boy. Usually it was a girl. He'd been offered a boy before, but just like the girls the boy had been afraid. So afraid that it was hard to carry him all the way across the mountain and set him free on the south path. This boy however... was different. Striking blue eyes quickly darted away. Almost embarrassed to be caught staring. Helpless he stood there, the boy in the white dress. And yet, he did not smell of fear. Even as the demon took him down and swung him over a shoulder, the scent remained absent. It was a revelation almost. To have a being so close without reeking of fear was a thing the demon hadn't encountered since his mother banished him when he became of age. And that was a long time ago. It was euphoria. It was the light feeling entering his head, thinking that for once he caught a break. It was happiness and false hope over someone who finally didn't fear him. It was dangerous. 

Even slung over his shoulder, the boy didn't scream, didn't cry and did not fear. He remained silent and after a time simply fell asleep. How was this possible? What sorcery was this? How could it be? The closer and closer he got to his home, the more frustrating it was becoming. Shouldn't he be happy that this boy did not fear him? That he didn't have to struggle with his transformation? Well yes. And he was but... Instead he struggled with another feeling. With something he didn't understand. Something that burned in his gut. Something he mistook for perhaps heat, or lust or something else. Something he couldn't name because he couldn't ever remember feeling something like it. It angered him, frustrated him and even scared him. How dare this boy be so different that he couldn't even let him go? How could a boy hold so much power that he was the one fearing? What if he killed the boy out of self preservation? It had been almost a century since the last kill, the urge would be strong, the demon knew that. And this odd feeling clawing at him form the inside, fighting with his beast, fighting for control. It didn't help. It was something of a hunger. A craving. But for what? 

In thought the demon dropped his cloak and put his things away. A mistake made out of habit. He had dropped the boy on his bed. He didn't know why he didn't make it to the south side this time. Walking passed his home should have been routine. It should have been habit. After all the practice he'd had with fearful maidens it should have been easy. A breeze especially if this boy didn't kick and trash and reeked of fear, tears and anxiety like the girls did. Instead he found the boy here, in his bed, with that infuriating smell both sweet and savory at the same time. It tugged at him. Igniting something of a hunger. A secret longing. And that scent... it was messing with his head. Even through the mask. Then the sharp gasp hit him like lightening. Something was shooting through his veins and he had no clue what it was. He couldn't even fight it. His medallion did nothing to stop the sensation. Whatever it was, it was the boy's doing. He knew it had to be. In three maybe four strides he was next to the bed. And those wide blue eyes staring up at him they... 

Gods they made his stomach flip. That sharp hunger stabbed him in the gut. Maybe he did want to kill. Or maybe devour, or maybe both. He felt dizzy. That scent was taking over his sense, confusing his body and clouding his mind. But... even looming over the boy like this, There was still no fear. A hunger of a different kind then? Mating season had come and gone and though the demon was not bothered by something so primal there was an effect of it hanging in the air around every animal he came across. And sometimes, it made him feel lonely. Sometimes it gave him an urge. A hunger. For something more. For the body he missed beside him. For the warmth he never dared to hope for. Something he needed, something he wanted. Something he could take right here and now if he could just get those blue eyes to stop looking at him like that. This urge, this need, burning, scratching, turning in his gut. This was worse then fighting against transformation. This was fighting against the unknown.

Unwillingly it made him reverted back into old patterns. Claiming the body beneath him as a trophy, as a need, as whatever would still his hunger or that hollow stabbing feeling that curled around in his gut every time he inhaled. And the boy, Gods... the boy was tight, warm, soft and unafraid. Too tight, too warm, too soft. And still through that strong heady scent, he did not smell any fear. He'd almost swear he could start to scent that very emotion on his own skin. The burning in his stomach only seemed to get worse. And though he shivered in delight to the tightness he was thrusting into, it seemed to both please him and hurt him at the same time. Enough to make him feral, but too painful to release the beast. The confusion spread. As did the hunger. The demon shed his mask as a test and as a need and want. He mouthed at the boy's shoulder only to take a greedy bite. Blood, another trigger. It could possibly sort him out or at least save him from this magic. Yet he stopped as soon as his teeth had only sunken in a little. The beast in him seemed disinterested in claiming more of the iron tasting liquid. Instead it purred at the bitter taste on his tongue. And it did not bring him the sensation he had hoped to find. It wasn't a battle this time. It almost seemed to bring him in balance with his beast, in peace for the first time since forever. 

He heard the boy groan and the sound it... it did something to him. He shuddered, finding his release. Heat and ice chills fighting over his body. The boy's squirming twisted his stomach right after and he realized it hadn't been that kind of hunger. Nor was it the hunger to eat and devour the boy. There was still no scent of fear. The boy's breathing had evened out, shallow and quick. There were more scents mixing in the air, blood and spent and sex, but just the one sided kind. His kind. The one he emitted once in a while when his need rose too high. Then he slipped from the boy. And with horror the demon realized what he did. 

For so long he had resisted. For so long he had managed to stay true to his firm wish not to harm, maim, rape or kill, even if humans were the deserving species of it. And now he failed in a new way. A spectacular and epic failure. Falling back to the twisted nature of his species. Calling out his feral behavior without turning into the beast itself. He drew back from the boy. At a loss, filling with guilt. That odd feeling was still there. It burned, clawed and swam restlessly in the Demon. It brought a sense of unease. For the first time since a millennia the demon did not know what to do. With... Any of this. With the boy, With himself, with this situation, this feeling, all of it. Seeing him laying there, asleep, exhausted from the abuse made the Demon's stomach twist and convulse in guilt and shame. Pain raced through his veins as he watched the small young beauty breathe evenly, half curled up. Dirtied with blood and semen. No longer able to stand the sight the demon covered the boy, tugging his dress back down, laying a soft fur blanket over him, releasing him from his bonds and he recoiled in shame of what he had done to the poor thing. He ruined the boy. 

For a long time he watched from a corner as the boy slept. A long time he sat there thinking on what to do. All the while the monster inside him seemed satisfied and purred as it curled up to go back to sleep as it usually did after bursting out. But this time it did not sleep to the quenched thirst of murder. The sex, the blood from the boy's shoulder, it had been powerful enough to put the beast back to sleep. Then the boy turned in his sleep and his neck laid exposed and the demon braced himself to resist the urge to pounce and sink his teeth into the supple flesh. Instead he fled. Outside, to safety. To... anything that still made sense. He took a breath, taking to him all scents of the forest. And yet even here the boy's scent seemed to follow him. He turned to gaze at the cave's entrance, frowning and thinking. Then he decided to do something he had never done before. If there was a way to make this right, then he would find it. Starting with getting that boy out of that cursed white dress. 

* * *

The demon let out a shrill whistle. One that echoed far through the trees and scared a few hares back into their holes. A neighing echo responded as a large chestnut firemare came trotting up the path to answer her master's call. Little flames licking around her hooves yet never devouring or hurting the host that carried them. 

" _Płotka_ "

The demon sighed in relief. Petting her velvet soft nose before he pressed his head to her nose. He told her he did something terrible. And in her own way she understood and comforted him. His only companion. His only trusted friend. He needed her to help him make it right. And so he hopped on her back without saddle or rein. He held onto her mane as she brought him down to the village as fast as she could. Far faster then any normal horse ever could.

He had to hurry. It was almost dawn and if someone were to see him the whole village would be out of bed faster then it took to blow out a candle. He searched by scent. Trying to follow a familiar one towards a pile of belongings that seemed placed in an odd location. There was an oak wooden box placed near the graveyard gates that was filled with items that had this same scent lingering. The scent that still made his head kind of woozy. One of sandalwood and pine, one sweet and savory. The scent of the boy. The clothes all had that scent, but one stronger then the others. A set of blue. Like the boy's eyes. 

The demon took the fabric between his fingers. Bringing it up to his face. For a moment he allowed his eyes to close and inhale that very scent. It made his stomach feel weird again and his head light. So weird he had to lay a hand on his belly to calm it down. Then the horse snorted and warned him of his deadline. The demon quickly gathered the blue set and two others and collected them in a bag. Then his eyes fell onto an instrument. It was a strange one. He had seen things like it before but rarely ever heard it played. He brought one finger to the strings and was a bit startled by the sound that came off of it. Without thinking twice he grabbed the instrument too and climbed back onto his trusted friend who quietly sped away back up the mountain.

It was light out by the time the demon finally arrived back at his home. But as he went inside, he found the cave empty. His stomach dropped and several things crossed his mind at the same time. Where did the boy go? Did he run? Did he get lost? did he hurt himself? Did an animal hurt him? Any sane person would run. It was logical. In fact it should have been a good thing. The further away from him the better. But when he thought of the boy running away from him, the demon was hit with a different stab to the gut. One that hurt much more then the other feeling. It was that very stab that forced him back outside and onto Płotka's back to search for the boy. Luckily he was a good tracker, and there was a set of fresh bare footprints on the path down to the creek. 

Finding him didn't take long. It seemed the boy had found his way to the stream closest by. Whether he came upon it by pure chance, luck or whether he really had the skills to navigate nature, the demon didn't know. He halted his faithful companion on the path and took the bag, fished out the blue outfit and walked up to the bushes, but then he stopped. He could see the boy from here. His keen eyes able to take in almost every detail. Like the bite mark on the boy's shoulder and the perfect set of ten crescent cuts above ten dark bruised. Five on each side of the boy's hips. It made his heart clench in his chest. He hurt the boy. In his confusion, he lost control, it was a miracle he didn't completely transform but this... this was so much worse. He was lucky he didn't kill, but he had been so unfortunate as to be unable to set the boy free on the southern path. If the kid was smart he would run. He would go and not look back. He would never even think of returning.

Guilt whipped up in his gut so strongly it hurt. And yet, seeing the boy there, bathing, cleaning his lithe body, it upset his stomach in a completely different way. The demon looked around. Then he eyed the white dress. The cursed white dress that still had red stains it despite clearly being washed. It still smelled of blood and the demon took offense to it. He ripped the fabric from the branch in seething anger, anger towards himself for losing control, anger towards the villagers for putting this boy up for grabs to save their own skin and anger that he couldn't identify these emotions rolling through his mind and body.

Instead when the boy's back was turned he snuck up and laid out the blue clothes with care. Making sure the small pile had everything to dress the boy warmly. When he turned back to his mare, the demon suddenly realized, he didn't take any shoes. The boy couldn't be walking around on his bare feet the whole time. He looked at his fur boots and then back towards the stream. It was not ideal, and they would be too big. But something was better then nothing. And with everything the demon did it was no more then fair to give up something personal. He left the boots for the boy and took his mare. Hesitant he wondered if he should leave the boy alone. Now that he had clothes and boots, the boy could still run away from him. But if that is what would happen, the demon wouldn't try and fight it. Then maybe this weird thing in his stomach would finally die down.

* * *

Back in the cave the demon put on a spare pair of boots and made sure that everything was neat and cleaned up, No evidence left of the night before. Except the smell. There was still a smell of blood and sex and something that just hit the demon the wrong way. He decided to built a fire and burn some lavenders to cover up the scent. He still had the boy's instrument. He studied it a little, wondering, many questions raising at the delicate form of it. Should he have left it by the river? If the boy ran then he wouldn't come back for this. He probably didn't even know it was here. The demon set it aside on the bed for now. Not knowing what else to do with it. The sun lowered in the sky usually around this hour, fish would start to become more active. If he was lucky he could still catch a few. That was the only thing the villagers never offered him. Fish. Meat was fine but sometimes a good fat fish just gave enough variation and nutrition to a healthy diet. The demon took his mare and took off. Maybe fishing would take his mind off the boy. Because every time he thought about the boy and what he had done, or the boy running off, fleeing and never coming back, it hurt so much.

For a few hours, until the sun was almost completely down, The demon had allowed himself to go back to his life. To feel as if everything was still normal. He had been able to fill the small basked he had with him with fish. Healthy trout from further down the east side of the mountain. Fishing had been able to distract him so far. But when he was on his way home, his thoughts caught up to him. And it made his stomach churn. He hid himself under his cloak and his mask but he felt exposed and judged by a power he could not see. He felt miserable. Because what he did last night kept haunting him. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing that lithe form beneath his hands. He couldn't stop the phantom smell of blood, sandalwood and pine from drifting into his nose. Worst was the thought that the boy had done the smart thing and taken off. If his home was empty he didn't know if he was going to be relieved or curl up into a big heap of disappointment and hurt. But... Could he really expect the boy to stick around after what he did? No sane person would!

When he approached the cave and let his fire mare wander off to her own favorite spot he froze. He could sense a small and quick heartbeat in there. He could faintly smell a sweet and savory scent. He could feel even outside of the cave that the boy had not taken his chances to run, but he had returned. Confusion twisted it's way into the demon's chest. Why? Why would he do such a foolish thing? What if the demon lost control again? He stepped inside, his cloak and mask in place, medallion around his neck. Bracing himself for whatever was to come next. And what he saw nearly made him drop to his knees and beg forgiveness in every way he knew. The boy sat there, clad in his blue outfit, which made his eyes light up like sapphires. His angelic voice filled the air as he sat and his fingers gently coaxed at the strings of the instrument he was holding and it sang beneath his fingertips so pure and beautifully. Only complimenting the purity of his voice. His brown hair was messy yet looked soft and smelled clean and it crowned him like gold would adorn a king's head. This pure image shook the demon. Because he knew that this pure soul _was now tainted. By his hand and his body forced upon the innocence that was this little angel. The gods must have had mercy on him by sending him this boy, and he spat in their faces by abusing him._

Fear. It filled the air and made it thick. And for the first time ever, the demon was shocked to discover it came from him. Carefully and timid he set the basket down. Searching for a few sturdy twigs to pin the fish to and place them above the fire. The boy had stopped singing. He seemed to look at the demon. Studying him with curiosity in his eyes and a slightly tilted head. Now he was glad he was still wearing his mask and cloak because all the demon wanted to do was hide from that sapphire gaze. Hide from those innocent eyes that, no matter how often the demon glanced at them, held no accusations and no blame. They didn't judge him. They merely sparkled with a thousand questions the demon himself had no answers to. He put another fish on the fire when the boy reached for him. Stretching a hand out to the demon who quickly flinched away from the extended hand like it could hurt him.

"A-are you... Are you okay?"

The words sounded foreign. The demon knew what they meant, but he hadn't spoke anything but the old tongue for so long he had no words to answer. He could understand them, but forming them on his own tongue he could not. And even if he could. What would he say? What kind of a question was that even? He hurt the boy. He forced himself onto the teen. He was the one who inflicted suffering. Should he not be the one to ask the boy if he was okay? Why was he asking such a thing? The demon remained silent. No way to reply and no way to understand why on earth the kid was asking him such a thing.

"You... Ehm.. Thank you.. For... For my clothes. And my Lute."

What could he say? _You're welcome? Why are you thanking me? Why didn't you run? What the hell are you still doing here? More importantly what the hell are you?_

"Hmm"

Was all he could say. He had no words to voice any of the other questions. And yet the hum seemed like he asked them all at once. He didn't understand this. Any of it. And he certainly did not get why the boy was still here and talking to him as if he was just another person, some random stranger to meet on the road. He closed his eyes and inhaled softly. Sandalwood, Pine, Buttercups, sweet water.... and still no fear.


	3. Chapter 3

Julian's heartbeat was slowly rising. The demon before him was imposing and large. And yet, Julian felt more curious then anything. Why was he wearing a cloak? Why the mask? Why did he do what he did to Julian if he then acted like he wanted to apologize? Was something wrong with him? Where were all the other girls? What was he going to do to Julian now? Maybe he shouldn't have returned, but something drew him back here. He stared up at the creature with his blue eyes. He followed the movements. Watching the Demon pull fish from a basket and stabbing them onto small sticks to hang them above the fire. The scent of fish roasting filled the air around them and it made Julian slightly hungry again. Even though he had an apple, hours had passed since he had breakfast after wandering off to scrub himself clean in the sweet waters of the stream further down the path.

It reminded him of what the demon had done for him. The clothes he brought. The lute he had carefully set down on the bed. The boy couldn't help but wonder why. If he really did all of this out of the kindness of his heart, why did he mistreat Julian in such a way last night? What was it that took over him? Was it a full moon thing? Did he struggle with some sort of curse? Did he hide because of that? It was the only thing Julian could think of that would explain this odd behavior. It would also explain why the hell he was still alive. In a brave and foolish attempt, Julian tried to reach for the demon to get his attention. But as soon as his hand came close to the cloak the demon jolted away as if stung by a wasp. Julian didn't understand why. Had he done something wrong? He dropped his hand and swallowed the lump in his throat.

"A-Are you... Are you okay?"

It was a sincere question and yet Julian didn't quite know what he wanted to accomplish by asking it. The demon didn't answer. He turned his head around, golden eyes staring at Julian from beneath the mask. Confusion swirling in them. And yet a bit of understanding. So either he didn't get the words or he couldn't reply to them? Julian frowned. Caressing the neck of his lute in thought. Why did the demon give this to him? How did it know? What was going on? Well... Even if he was full of questions and not able to get many answers, the least he could do was be grateful for the things he did get. 

"You... Ehm.. Thank you.. For... For my clothes. And my Lute."

He chose his words carefully. Wanting the message to come across clearly. He didn't hate the demon for what he did. Even though it had been most unpleasant. But there was just something that told him that... it wasn't supposed to be like this. Something went wrong. Like a silent whisper in the back of his mind that told him through the demon's actions that, the other hadn't wanted to hurt him. But he lost control somehow. If that wasn't the case then Julian would be dead for sure. But just the fact that he was breathing made him wonder why he did it and what the story was. It had been unpleasant and painful and even if Julian didn't hate him it would take a while to forgive, because it was wrong. But if he was trying to apologize... was it really his choice? Did something drive him to do this? 

"Hmm"

Julian's eyes widened and he looked up. It was the first audible reply he had gotten. Even if it was just a hum, it was something. It made him smile softly. Though it filled him with more questions. Couldn't he talk? Maybe he never learned how. But he did understand what Julian was saying right? The boy fought the urge to ask all his questions out loud. He startled the demon by just reaching for him. He didn't want to cause more problems by loading him off with a ton of questions. Especially if the creature couldn't answer him properly. It would only be frustrating and he didn't want to make the demon uncomfortable or even angry by frustrating him. He could lose it again and possibly make a repeat of yesterday's events if Julian agitated him too much. Silence fell between them, and almost automatically, Julian's fingers found his Lute again. He hummed to the melody of what he was playing, not really following any particular song but just keeping himself familiar with the feel of the strings under his fingers. 

The demon tilted it's head. Listening to the soft sounds. Sometimes it turned the fish above the fire and it sat away from him with the fire between them, but it listened intently to what Julian was playing. After a while the demon wordlessly took one of the sticks with fish from the fire and motioned it to Julian. He probably wanted him to take it. Julian set his Lute aside and slowly scooted a little closer. Not wanting to make sudden moves or he'd startle the demon again. He reached out slowly, trying to take the stick from the demon. It was pretty hot except at the end so he tried to grab that. His hand brushing the claw that held it out to him. The demon retracted instantly. Almost shocked at the contact. Too soon for Julian to grab the fish and it fell to the floor. Julian gasped and quickly picked it up.

"S-sorry! Sorry. I didn't grab-..."

He apologized and tried to blow the dirt of the fish. The demon growled lowly and displeased and Julian froze. He held the stick with the fish out in response to the growl and the demon snatched it. Taking a clean one from the fire and holding it out to him. Julian nodded and tried again. Attempting not to touch the Demon this time. And it worked. He grabbed the stick and brought the fish to himself. It smelled really good and carefully, he plucked at the fish. It was a little hot so he had to wait a bit and tear small pieces from it to eat it. But it was delicious. Fresh fish never tasted so good. He hummed pleased at the warm feeling that slowly set in his stomach. With each bite he felt a little more sated. But then he frowned. The demon didn't eat. He was staring at Jaskier. The boy looked at his fish and back up and he held it out. But the demon turned his head. 

"Don't you need to eat?"

"hmm"

Well... It was a response. But apparently there was something keeping him from eating. Jaskier frowned and took the fish back, continuing to eat it. He studied the demon while it tended the fish and the fire and put the cooked fish in a bowl. Then it hit him. The mask... It kept the demon from eating. 

"You know.. You need to eat. If you don't want me to see.. I could turn my back? No peeking. Promise."

Julian joked softly. But the demon just glared at him and growled softly. 

"No? Alright then. But if you get hungry later just remember you said no."

The boy was relieved. He found his voice. And if they sat like this, the demon wasn't so scary. It made him feel more at ease. More comfortable. And when he got comfortable, he got chatty. After dinner he looked at his greasy hands and his lute. He couldn't play like this. He was about to ask if there was water when a rag landed in his lap and Julian squeaked in surprise. The thing was damp and he used it to clean up his hands and his mouth. He reached to hand it back and the demon all but snatched it from him. As if he was afraid to linger close to Julian. His quick reflexes really amazed Julian. The demon moved over to a small table with shelves above it with different herbs and started doing something that sounded like crushing herbs. Julian paid no attention to it. He turned to his lute and started playing again. He didn't sing this time. But he played some melody he vaguely remembered hearing somewhere. Attempting variations on high and low chords to rediscover the song. 

After a bit, the demon circled Julian and knelt before him. In his claws was a little stone bowl of crushed herbs made into a paste. Julian stopped playing and eyed it for a second before looking up. Tilting his head with the questions unasked in his eyes. The demon didn't really seem to know how to tell him what he wanted. He just pushed the bowl forward, motioning for Julian to take it. Julian accepted it, careful not to touch the demon when he took it from the claws. It smelled earthy but not bad. The demon hummed and gestured to Julian's shoulder. The injured one. _The one the demon had sank his teeth into._ oh.. oh! Suddenly it made sense. 

"A salve? For my-... for my shoulder?"

The demon nodded and moved away. Julian smiled to himself and worked his doublet open, then pulled his shirt over his head. Too bad he couldn't really see what he was doing. The mark was on the back of his shoulder and he couldn't really do anything but feel for it. He hissed a little when he scooped up some of the paste and gently rubbed it on the mark. It stung a little and it made the skin tingle before it felt really warm. Even on his fingers. He tried to reach further but he couldn't really get to the lower part of the bite. Helplessly he struggled before groaning in frustration and giving up. The sound made the demon twitch uncomfortably. A low rumble replying to Julian's pained noise. The boy turned his head around. The demon was watching him from a corner. Even from beneath the mask, Julian could feel the glowing amber orbs bore into him. 

Julian bit his lip and hesitated. He needed help. And the only one who could give it to him was also the very person who was the source of him needing help. He reached the stone bowl out slowly. The demon pressed himself back first. Trying to get away from the arm. But Julian didn't move. He held out the bowl. Waiting. The demon slowly inched closer, taking the bowl from Julian's hands. Julian sighed softly in relief. That was step one. As for step two...: He turned around and revealed his injured shoulder to the demon. He tensed as a low growl ripped from the creature. It almost sounded like a scowling anger. His heart was racing now. He wasn't sure what the demon would do. Staring at the fire Julian finally jolted a little as he felt the pads of two fingers press on his shoulder. The demon had understood. And ever so carefully the lower part of the bite was covered with the salve. It made Julian shiver softly. He was tense. After all he could not forget that these very hands had hurt him the day before.

The claw retracted suddenly. Like the creature had burned it on Julian's body. Julian let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and pulled his shirt back on. Then the demon stood, His large form casting an even bigger shadow on the cave wall. He marched over to the entrance of the cave and shoved the vines out of the way. A shrill whistle followed and after that neighing replied. Julian perked up at the sound. Curious and ever the animal lover he hurriedly pulled his doublet on and moved over to the entrance to see what the demon just called. Breath caught in his throat, Julian stumbled outside at the sight of a magnificent Chestnut mare with flaming hooves. A firemare... He thought those were a myth!

His eyes threatened to pop out of his head with how wide they grew. The animal bristled and mowed her head a few times. Stomping a hoof down almost as large as Jaskier's head. She was a giant. A beautiful magnificent giant. And in the dark of the night her eyes glowed a bright fiery yellow and gold. Like twin suns. The demon stepped forward, murmuring something to her as he petted her neck. Julian felt small compared to the both of them. The demon was not so bad. But this large mare was incredible. She huffed and shook her mane. Ruffling the hairs in something that sounded like a protest to something. The demon growled softly, displeased and murmured something again. Julian couldn't understand it. The words were too soft to make out. Then he yelped as the Demon took him and with a large swing set him upon the mare's back.

 _Oh my god. I'm on the back of an actual Firemare! I'm riding a myth!_ Julian thought as he sat on the mare's back without saddle. She snorted softly, turning her head at him.

"uhm... hi?"

Julian greeted her softly. She snorted again and pushed her head against the demon's body. But the demon turned around and walked back into the cave.

"Hey wait!"

Julian called out quickly. How was he suppose to get down again? What even was happening? What were they doing? The demon came back with the Lute and pushed it up. A simple cord had been attached to it by the demon so Julian could put it around his shoulder. And he did. Because whatever was about to happen, he was pretty sure he needed both hands. The demon signed the horse to go and obediently, she started walking. Julian quickly grabbed the mane to prevent him from falling off. He didn't understand what was happening. But as soon as he looked back, he noticed the demon was not following. Julian sat up confused. A tugging at his heart. Was he send away? Why? The sight of the Demon and the cave was getting further and further away. The image grew smaller and smaller until it was swallowed up by the trees they passed. Julian shifted uncomfortably on the mare's back.

"Where are you taking me?"

He asked. Not that the mare could answer that question. Even though she bristled as if she understood. She kept walking. Down from the feel of it. Julian couldn't see much. It was pretty dark out and the only light came from the mare's hooves and eyes. Julian lost track of time as he kept looking around, trying to figure out where they were going. Or where he was being lead. He couldn't pinpoint his exact location. Not until in the distance, he saw a circle of white stones. _Back here again..._ Julian bit his lip. Only yesterday he stood barefoot on the middle rock to be presented as a gift for the demon up there. Though when Julian thought of all that happened it seemed so much longer ago. The mare walked passed it and Julian could see most of the flowers that were offered were still there. Untouched. The mare walked passed them and though all in her path remained untouched by her flaming hooves except for the ground that scorched in her hoof prints, these flowers caught flame and withered. 

Julian watched them burn as they moved on, slowly leaving the circle behind. Julian recognized the path now. They were heading for the village! He sat up straight. Part happy, part anxious. Why? Why did the demon tell the mare to bring him here? What was going to happen? He could see his adoptive parents again! But... would they be happy to see him? Everything was quiet when the mare slowly stepped into town. There was light behind the windows but no soul was out and about. Probably grieving or praying in tension, hoping that the demon would be happy with his offerings. If only they knew...

* * *

The mare shook her head and neighed. Loud and high. Too loud for it to go unnoticed. As if to draw attention. Julian's heart was racing in his chest now. A door opened to their left. And to their right. Light flooded the street as people came to see what made that noise. Gasps and yelps of fear ran through the village. Julian looked around. One woman screamed and scrambled to the alderman's house. Julian didn't understand. Maybe the mare scared them?

"Dandelion?"

A quivering voice sounded. Julian turned his head.

"Nana!"

"Dandelion! My little Lark! My Dandelion!"

She cried. He wanted to get down. He wanted to run to the woman who was his mother for more then a decade even if she was not his blood. He wanted to hug her and he wanted to cry in relief. The mare sank through her legs and Julian slid off of her back, wanting to run to her. But a bellowing voice halted him in his tracks.

"STAY WHERE YOU ARE!"

He stopped. His heart beating wildly. His adoptive father stood there with a pitchfork aimed at him. In disbelief Julian took a step closer.

"B-but... But it's me! I'm alive!"

He stuttered.

"Get back, fiend. We will not be plagued by wraiths and vengeful spirits."

Julian shook his head.

"I'm not-.. I'm not dead! I'm right here! It's me, Julian!"

The woman sobbed and collapsed to her knees while the man kept his pitchfork aimed at him. More villagers had gathered, most of which armed with something of a weapon. A shovel or Pitchfork, a rake or even sickles. The firemare did not move. She laid where she had descended and seemed disinterested in the villagers. She kept her eyes on Julian.

"Julian is dead. The demon took him yesterday. Our hunters found his flower crown in the woods!"

The man argued. Julian felt his chest constrict. It was getting hard to breathe. How could they not believe what was in front of them?

"But it's me! The demon took me and... i think.. i think he's satisfied. He let me go! Send me down on his mare. Please believe me."

"Or maybe you disappointed. Maybe you doomed us all! It never brings our girls back to us. Why should you be any different? Because you're a bad omen, is what you are."

The alderman's voice joined in. Squinting as he came to stand to Julian's right and raked his eye over the boy and the mare. 

"See here, the lute and the clothes that were stolen from the burial site. Taken. And returned with their owner inside. It bodes ill fate and misfortune for all of us."

"No! but-"

"You should have died for us. But you couldn't do it. Now the demon may come down to slaughter our livestock and eat our children, help himself to the women and torture the men. Burn the fields with his hellish mare."

Julian shook his head. Tears blinding his vision in frustration and anger. No. No they didn't get it. It wasn't like that! Not at all!

"NO! Listen to me! I don't think that's what he wants! Something happened up there. I think... I think he's cursed or something! He didn't _want_ to hurt me! I... I think-"

"A demon is a demon! And it will always behave and act like a demon. It will NEVER be anything else. To speak of want and curses. You lost your mind boy. Demons want nothing. They are beasts. Animals. Acting on pure instinct. It kills without thought. And for whatever reason it failed to kill you."

"He's not some beast! I've seen him! Well.. A part of him. He bares the form of a man. and if he was really so mindless, i wouldn't be standing here! Please. Please. Believe me. I'm not a bad omen! I didn't fail! No harm will come to you!"

"Anything to save your own skin. Despicable. Perhaps there is still hope. If we offer the demon your flesh and blood."

"No please!"

"I am sorry Julian. But this is the only way."

"Why won't you LISTEN to me?!"

The villagers closed in on him. And Julian felt he was on the verge of blacking out. They weren't happy to see him. In fact they wanted him dead! Why couldn't they see this as a good thing? What fear gripped at them that they would still think it best to end his life even if that was not what kept the peace in this village all along? It was all a lie! They did this to themselves. They were stubborn. Foolish! Ignorant! Julian shook his head and backed away as the crowd advanced on him. Nana cried and cried, cradling her poor chest until she collapsed completely. The stress becoming too much for her. Julian turned on his heel and fled back to the mare. Climbing on her back as fast as he could. And within a second she jumped up and neighed wild and angry. She trampled her hooves on the floor sending a wave of flames to drive the villagers back and create a barrier between them. Then she stormed off. Julian clung tightly to her mane while the tears rolled down his cheeks. He had no where left to go. 

* * *

Far enough into the woods, on the path leading back up the mountain the mare slowed her step. She kept walking but slow, soft snorting made it to the air around them and it soothed Julian a little, enough to put his face in her mane and cry out loud. Heart breaking sobs shook his small form as he clung to her. What was he supposed to do now? His own village tried to kill him, the demon send him away, all he had for company was the mare and he was sure she would return to her master. Julian felt exhausted. He didn't care what would happen if he let her carry him back. Even if the demon would kill him this time. Anything was better then the vision of his collapsing mother burned into his memory. And the harsh words of foolish men who were too stuck in their own fear to listen. 

Julian kept his head buried in the Mare's mane. Sobbing softly while she walked and walked and probably took him back to the demon. Why should he be worried now? Humans proved far worse a company. At least the demon let him go. Treated him badly yes but... Julian was convinced it wasn't voluntarily. While his own friends and family tried to end his life to save their own. From what? Themselves? 

Though his vision was blurred by tears he could slowly see a familiar rock formation rise from the distance. Covered and protected by greenery that fooled any passerby into thinking there was nothing there. The mare called out. Neighing, snorting, bristling, sending a wave of sounds in that direction as if she were talking. Heavy footsteps followed and when the demon pushed his way through the green, clad in his usual cloak and mask, Julian felt nothing but relief. His chest constricted as he tried not to cry harder. But it was near impossible. Especially when the demon came up to the mare.

*" _Co się stało_?" 

He asked. The low rumbling voice laced with something Julian could identify as concern even if he could not understand the words. It was all that was needed for him to mindlessly slide off the mare's back, throw his arms around the creature and cry into his large chest. The demon stiffened under his touch. Tense and quite unsure what to do with this boy that suddenly hugged him. The horse used her own sounds to reply her master and the demon seemed to understand her well enough. An angry growl left him but when Julian squeezed tighter, sobbing a little louder, it lowered to a rumble and stopped. A hesitating arm came around him and the warmth of it spread on Julian's back. Even if this was the creature that hurt him before, Julian felt safer here then anywhere else. And in this moment all he could do was try and seek more comfort and protection by crawling into that hold. 

Once his mind would clear this would probably all seem like a very bad idea. He'd probably ask himself why he would ever press himself into the arms of his attacker. But in this moment, it was the only thing that made sense. He could feel it. Gravity and emotions pulling him towards the figure in the cloak. As if some vague form of fate decided this was what it needed to be. A redemption arc designed for the demon made with the life of Julian Alfred Pankratz. The exhaustion struck and it was probably so late it could be near morning. Julian's legs gave out and he half expected to crumble to the floor. But the strong arm wrapped around him was joined by a second as the demon caught him and lifted him up with ease. 

The demon carried him inside and carefully laid him on the bed. Julian curled up and pushed his head into the furs, exhausted and sad. The demon pulled off Julian's boots and covered him in a fur blanket. He wanted to get up but it caused a panic in Julian without knowing why. He reached for the demon and grabbed the sleeve of his shirt.

"Don't go! P-please.."

Against knowing better, Julian didn't want to be alone right now. The demon blinked beneath the mask and hesitated. Eventually it settled to sit down next to Julian awkwardly patting Julian's back softly as he laid on his side, his knees pulled up, curled into a ball underneath the fur blanket. Julian had the sleeve still clutched tightly in his hand. Not wanting to let go in case the demon would leave him alone again. And the grip only loosened when Julian finally fell asleep from exhaustion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"What happened?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: All your comments are so sweet. Thank you so much. It's really nice to know i've managed to surprise some of you in a positive sense. Have a nice day!

* * *

He didn't get it. He didn't understand why this boy was what he was, why he acted like he acted. Or what even went on in that little mind of his. It was like a pebble causing a landslide. A whisper causing an avalanche. A spark causing a wildfire. This boy, hardly an adult had the power to cause such a destructive inner turmoil and yet when the demon paid attention to the beast inside him, it laid curled up fucking purring, soothed and waiting. Calm, tamed. Something that took the demon years of practice and this kid, this infuriating blue eyed wonder, did it in a day. And yet, there was a danger to it. If anything the beast was only satisfied because it already had a piece of the boy. He wasn't pressed to kill this time but what if that hunger returned? What if the control lacked again and his inner killer decided to have another go? 

He couldn't protect the boy then. When the beast came out he had no control over it's actions. Which was another evolution of what the humans once did to his kind. He grew up so fast his mother also couldn't teach him how to keep a clear head and stay conscious. He often questioned if she even knew how to do it herself. But he was left to figure it out on his own. And whatever he had tried, it had never worked. There was always a darkness, a blackout that took a hold of him. And he could never break through it until he was himself again. It clouded his mind. And often retracing his steps only allowed him the pain and knowledge of how dangerous and destructive he was. Mother said that once they used to be peaceful. Spirit guardians of nature and of animals. That their true forms were their original ones. They adapted to more human forms to communicate their wisdom and sincerity towards the humans. Somewhere down the line something went wrong. They were twisted. And that blackness took a hold seeking vengeance on those that caused them this pain and forced them to change. Humans were strangely powerful that way.

In thought the demon nursed the fire and tended to the fish he had cooking above it. Thinking on what this all meant. What he was suppose to do with all of this. What he could do to save the boy from himself. Maybe he should send him back? Though the last time he did such a thing, the poor girl he left on the offering stone was killed by the villagers. They had put her broken body out for him to find and he had cried for days, blaming himself for giving her such a miserable end. He took the body and buried her next to his other victims. This time though, he already took the boy. Maybe... Maybe if he returned the boy they would not see it as a bad sign? It was almost too much to hope for but what else was he supposed to do? The boy couldn't stay here. The demon did not trust himself or the beast inside him to leave the boy alone and allow him to live here. 

Some strange sound filled the cave. While the demon was working on their dinner, the boy's hands had found the strings of his instrument again. It sounded... foreign. Strange almost. But.. beautiful in a way. Like something from another world. The demon tilted his head and listened. The melody seemed a calm and soothing one. Almost like a lullaby. And it resonated off the walls, echoing with a strange tension the demon did not fully understand. Music was... a rarity. Every day he only had the sounds of nature to accompany him. The rustling of the leaves, the birds chirping, ground animals scurrying in search for food, the slow streaming of the water nearby, the cackling of the fire. All of that was his own harmony. His music. He rarely got to experience something nature did not make. And so it captivated him. And he listened, his thoughts drifting to unknown territory while he tended to the fish and the fire. After a while, it took him a moment to let his spirit land and his mind return to him. Which allowed him to see that the fish was done.

Cautiously he took one from the fire. While he could feel his own stomach rumble for some filling, he didn't dare to risk taking off his mask. He dulled his senses for a reason and even with these layers of protection the impulses were strong. He could still smell the boy, even with the fish and the fire between them, overpowering the scent of most things in the cave. But not the boy's. He reached the stick out to the boy. Gesturing at him to take what was on offer. A hint of disappointment spread as the offer made the lute sounds stop. Yet.. The boy had to eat. As he reached out, the demon tried to keep himself away as much as possible, stretching his arm out as far as it could go. But when the boy took it, their hands touched. A jolt of something that felt like lightning followed and inside he could hear the beast growl in some low dangerous and unpredictable tone the demon couldn't place. Out of preservation and fear it would trigger him or take over he pulled back as if he had burned himself. The growl inside had startled him. And he couldn't tell what his inner creature wanted with it. 

Of course the boy, sweet and pure as he was, jumped in to apologize. Didn't he know there was nothing to be sorry for? He wanted to grab the fish again, but it had fallen to the floor. Covered in sand and dirt and no longer fit to be given to... a guest. That was the closest way to describe this awkward setting. The demon found himself growling with disapproval instantly. Catching himself on only wanting to give the boy the best. He had a lot to make up for and dirty fish wasn't going to make a very good apology. The teen held it out. Uncertain. And through everything else, even as the demon snatched the dirty fish from him, he could not detect a hint of fear coming from the boy. It was like the emotion and the scent simply did not exist for him. And the demon couldn't figure out why.

The demon braced himself and swapped the dirty fish for a fresh one. Just done cooking. He tried again, reaching the stick out to the boy. They didn't touch this time. But being so close to him still felt uncomfortable. Namely because certain moves the boy made still caused him to wince. and the faint scent of blood lingering around him was a clear reminder that despite the demon's best efforts he had lost a battle the night before. Thankfully the boy was... well, alright may not be the best word, but at least he wasn't worse then a few scratches physically. Judging from the way he behaved, he also wasn't scarred as much mentally as the demon had feared he would. He didn't sit curled in a ball, crying. He didn't go out to throw himself off a cliff. Which was as relieving as it was confusing. 

Too late the demon realized he was staring. And the boy looked up, those blue eyes boring into him like they could see beneath all the relic he used to hide and dull his senses. As if they could even looks straight passed his exterior and see the beast inside. It made the demon want to curl up and hide. He didn't want to show the kid what he could turn into. 

"You know.. You need to eat. If you don't want me to see.. I could turn my back? No peeking. Promise."

He said. A kind offer. If ever there was one. But one impossible to accept. Removing his mask would mean so much more then just revealing his identity. So even though his stomach growled, the demon let out a stubborn and almost insulted growl and denied himself the food that was in front of him. He could eat if he was not around the boy. He cleaned up the fish in a bowl, fit to reheat those above the fire later.

"No? Alright then. But if you get hungry later just remember you said no."

Cheeky. If this situation wasn't what it was, it may have made the demon smile. Or even huff in amusement. But the truth of the matter was that he could barely believe that the boy wasn't yelling at him, screaming or saying hurtful things in spite of what he had done. This boy was too good to doom him to the chances of getting hurt again. His soul was too pure. If the demon's very own struggle didn't already cement his decision then this would. He would send the boy back. He had to take that chance. Because what life would this be up here? How long could he last before the beast decided he wanted another bite out of that boy. Or worse, if it wanted to mate again to satisfy it's own primal needs. What if he transformed again and killed and all his efforts to say sorry to the boy were in vain? What if he had to bury this boy next to-... He couldn't. Along with his thoughts of torment, the scent of old blood was starting to irritate him. He had to do something about it. Help heal the wounds so he'd be spared the strong urge to refresh the scent.

He'd make a healing salve. He used it for his own wounds often enough. Whenever he had survived another encounter with hunters and other hired slayers to get rid of him. He bore many scars of those fights. Even his broken horn was a testimony of the humans caring only for his death. He took a rag to clean up his own fingers, realizing the boy ate so he must have dirty hands as well. He dipped the cloth in a bowl of fresh water, wrung it out and threw it in the boy's lap. Anything to avoid getting closer. And then he got to work. Crushing herbs into a fine dust, adding some water and animal fat to turn it into a paste. The silver sounds of that Lute once more filled the cave before the demon forced himself to stop listening to it and keep focused on his task. 

"A salve? For my-... for my shoulder?"

As the demon finished, he was grateful that the boy seemed to understand his gestures perfectly. It would require no words to communicate. Even if that was easier. It was almost embarrassing but next to the words of his elder tongue, he couldn't actually form any words of human speech. The sounds were not at all the same. He could understand it well enough. But speaking was an entirely different thing. He had a hard enough time telling the girls he carried to run and never come back. And he always managed that with as few words as possible. One glare and a gesture of him pointing a finger threatening in the direction they should be running in send most of them flying down the path with the speed of a wild cat. He had never needed many human words. He simply nodded and gave the boy room to do it himself. If anything he didn't trust himself to lay a hand on that boy again because if it shot lightning through him again or did something else it could trigger him. 

Sadly things were never that easy. It seemed in his instinct to mark the boy he had done so on a place that was difficult to reach for the very carrier of the bite mark. The row of his lower teeth was much too low for the boy to reach properly and too high up to reach from below. It hovered on that edge of his shoulder that was difficult to access even when taking a bath. Fuck... Like predicted, the boy tried yet couldn't reach that part of his body to take care of his injury. _the one the demon had put there in the first place._ and now he would have to help cure the damage he himself inflicted. The demon couldn't help but flinch back as the boy wordlessly stuck an arm out to him, holding the salve. He didn't want to touch the boy. He knew that if he did he would be reminded of what he had done the other night. The memories would roll in fresh as if he were living through it all over again. But he couldn't ignore this and not help the boy out.

Hesitantly he reached out. His clawed hand taking the salve from the boy without touching him. So far so good. But then came the hard part. The demon braced himself for it. Trying to ignore the faint scent of sandalwood and buttercup entering his nose even over the scent of the crushed herbs. Ever so careful, with a stretched arm to put as much distance between them as possible, the demon dipped his fingers in the salve and brought them to the wound. The moment his fingers touched the marred patch of skin he had to bite his tongue. The beast inside perked up. And the demon struggled to keep it down. His senses were overwhelmed with the memory of the boy writhing underneath him, the fresh blood painting his shoulder, his fangs sinking in with the satisfaction of something that felt like claiming a possession. The demon bit his tongue till he tasted blood. His own blood. Trying to distract himself long enough to help the boy and get away without being overcome by another urge. He managed. Barely. But he managed. Even if the beast was now restlessly pacing in it's cage of flesh and bone. This is what he feared.

He couldn't wait any longer. He had to take a chance and send the boy away. But it was too much to let him go back on his own. If it didn't go well there was no way he could give the boy any protection. There was only one creature who could help him. His only and most trusted friend. His firemare. He got up, and marched out of the cave. Away from the boy. Away from the temptation. Away from the prey that had his inner monster bracing to pounce. He whistled. Knowing his mare would always be close. They had a special bond. And she would never abandon him. It simply wasn't the same as contact with a creature that could talk in actual words. Sure he could speak with her too. He had learned her language. But it wasn't the same. She called out to him as she came. Trotting up with the fullest confidence. And all he could do was ask her to help him. All he could do is tell her that he would rather take this chance then be overcome by the monster in him. He didn't want to hurt this boy any more then he already had. Despite his arguments she seemed to disagree. Perhaps she sensed something. Firemares were funny that way. But he wouldn't allow her to argue this time. And perhaps it was the fear that she smelled on him, perhaps it's because he begged her, but she agreed.

He didn't pause, he didn't think. Not allowing himself to go back on his decision. He took the boy and hoisted him on Płotka's back. Then he turned to get the Lute out of the cave. Taking a string he braided from vines to attach to it so the kid could wear it on his back. One more time Płotka asked him without words if this was for the best. But the demon couldn't give it a second thought. To afraid of what he might do if he hesitated. Too scared he might keep the boy and he'd bury another body come morning. He signed her to go away. He kept telling himself that this was for the best. That it was the right thing to do. That he was trying to protect the boy from what now restlessly crawled inside him. It burned in his gut. The beast clawing at him, begging him to reconsider. But he stayed where he was. Yet, the further the boy was taken away from him, the worse it felt.

The beast was angry now. Growling for having its prey taken away. Hissing at it's host for taking away the one thing that allowed it to slumber peacefully. It was painful and it took the demon everything to keep it from rising to the surface. His stomach was upset, his head hurt and the base of his horns ached with an itch impossible to scratch. He half remembered he had to eat. Because with the boy there he hadn't dared to take off the mask. He tested the waters carefully, Pushing the mask up on his head, under his cloak. But as soon as his face felt the cool air hit, so did the scent of the boy hit him. Full force. It still lingered. On the furs, around the fire, in the air. A half pained, half sad growl made it passed his lips before he could even stop it. His hunger fading away, swallowed up by an empty hollow feeling. Something that gnawed at his insides worse then any hunger could.

* * *

Never in a thousand years would the demon have admitted that, though confused as he was, the only thing that eased him was burying his nose in the furs that still carried the boy's scent. Never would he admit that he would rather starve himself then allow the scent to fade without taking it in as much as he could. Never would he admit, that while he hoped the boy would be taken back into the village, a part of him wanted the boy to return. Even if he was afraid of what he could do to the boy. Pain spread in his chest at the mere thought of those beautiful blue eyes. It only strengthened the hollow feeling.

a few hours later, he heard the heave steps of his mare, he could feel her approach and he could hear her calling. Out of instinct and false hope, he put the mask back on. He shouldn't want it. But if she carried the boy with her... The demon stepped out of the cave hesitant. Almost too anxious to find out if it had succeeded or failed. Yet when he saw her approach and witnessed a small figure clad in blue on her back, he felt anything but relief. Instead it felt like the strings of that lute of his were wrapped around his heart and pulled so tight they were cutting it to pieces. He could smell the salt of tears in the air and he could see the boy quiver. He could feel an intense sadness all the way from where he stood. And all he could think of was: _i hurt him again. I was wrong._ The demon stepped closer quickly. Touching his mare's nose while he asked her what happened.

" _Co się stało_?"

In her own language she had been able to tell him that the boy's village no longer wanted him. In fact they wanted him dead. This was that girl's incident all over again. Even now they refused to learn. Even his own family had turned their backs on him. There was no other option then, the demon would have to take him to the south path and set him free. He growled in anger to the news. Yet while he was contemplating that very idea, something startled him. The boy had slipped from Płotka's back and in all his grief and his pain, threw himself at the demon. The creature froze as the warmth and heavy feel of two small arms around his waist settled in his senses. He squeezed his eyes almost terrified to get an instant blackout. But his growl dimmed and even the beast inside him seemed to stop it's rumble. While the demon was afraid it would press to the surface, it curled up into a ball and slumbered again. The demon didn't understand. Why was it so complicated? Why did he want to kill and rip apart this boy and yet keep him close and protect him at the same time? Why wasn't this boy afraid? Hesitation struck, and yet the sense of grief from the small trembling form against him was overwhelming. So the demon did the only thing he could do at this moment. He couldn't free himself from the grip so he gently returned the gesture. Keeping an arm around the boy with no idea if it brought any sort of comfort.

The boy cried and cried his little heart out. And it hurt. It hurt the demon to hear those desperate sobs. To feel that body shake with every shallow inhale. Then the boy's legs gave out. The demon felt it. And before he could even comprehend what he was doing, he had stopped the boy from sinking to the ground and he had the smaller form in his arms. Exhaustion was tugging at the poor little human. He wouldn't be able to put up a fight now if the demon was subjected to any urges. And yet, the beast was surprisingly docile. The demon decided not to dwell on it. Lots of things could happen still. Yet he couldn't put the boy back on Płotka again. He'd fall off in his exhaustion. And this was no way to send his tired body on the south path. He needed rest. 

The demon brought the boy inside. Leaving the mare to do as she pleased. Carefully he tucked the boy in. Removing the fur boots and the lute and placing the fur blanket over his small form. The hollow feeling seemed to be gone now. But the demon still couldn't trust himself around this boy. Yet when he wanted to get up to create some distance, the boy clutched his sleeve like a lifeline. Panic, soft but present in his eyes. 

"Don't go! P-please.."

It was the voice that pinned the demon into place. It sounded so small. So fragile. It hurt him so much. It was not a good idea. But the desperation surrounding the boy told the demon that moving away was going to be even worse. So he sat and let the boy clutch his sleeve while he softly though awkwardly tried to soothe the kid by patting his back. After a short while, the boy's breath evened out and the grip on his sleeve loosened. The demon frowned as he looked down at the sleeping form. Nothing was going as it should. And this boy was at the center of it all. He just didn't understand any of it. He just decided that tomorrow he'd try to set the boy on the southern path and give him his freedom. After nearly having spend an hour by the boy's side, the demon was reminded of his hunger. He moved away to eat and tended the fire. Then he gazed at his bed where the boy slept. He sighed and collected some spare fur from the storage next to the pantry and made a spare bed on the floor. It wasn't as comfortable, or as warm and it was on the opposite side of the cave, away from the boy. But it would have to do for now.

* * *

In the morning, the demon woke slowly. An ache setting in where he had laid on his side for too long. He felt hot because he slept in his cloak and he felt his face itch for a wash because he had spend the night with his mask on as well. A groan left him as he sat up. Reality slowly seeping back into his mind. Then he remembered why he was sleeping on the floor and his golden eyes searched out his own bed as a reflex. He found it empty..

He sat up with jolt, wild thoughts running through his mind racing like his mare on her fastest gallop. His eyes immediately darted to his hands and his senses honed in on smell. Thankfully he could relax a little as he could see no red and smelled no iron tinge of blood. For a moment he had been scared the reason the boy was gone was because he had killed him. But nothing indicated that he did. The boy's lute was still by the bed but his boots were gone. That kid wouldn't run away without his Lute so it meant he had to be close by. The demon got up to investigate. He found a small trail of bread crumbs leading from the pantry to the entrance of the cave. Well... It meant the boy helped himself to some breakfast at least. He followed the trail to the forest outside and halted when he was met with a most peculiar sight.

The boy was standing on a log to reach the manes of his fire mare. Braiding them while petting her neck and ever so often scratch her velvety nose when she turned her head to him. Płotka had never been a fan of strangers. And so to let this boy dote on her was more then just a rare sight. In the mean time the kid was babbling to her. Thanking her for protecting him and promising her many more rubs and good things for being so good to him. She stood patiently as the boy worked through her manes and tied the braids off with little ribbons he had probably pulled from some packaging in the pantry. Compared to her, the boy looked small. Even though he was a good height for his age. Compared to other teens he would probably be average build and height. But standing next to the giant fire mare he looked like a child. 

The demon only noticed he had been staring when the boy turned around. His blue eyes sparkling with a dazzling smile. It made the demon look away quickly. Beautiful as they were, he didn't like it when those blue orbs looked at him. He felt exposed, as if they could look inside. And he didn't like to feel that ugly side of him was being watched. 

"You're up? I-.. you were sleeping. I... i didn't want to wake you. But i ehm.. Wanted to thank you for what you tried to do. Even if it didn't work."

_Even if it didn't work..._

Those were the words the demon got stuck on. And he didn't like it. He decided that he needed some space to clear his head. Away from this blue eyed confusion. He growled out a hum and turned around. Disappearing into the trees. Ignoring any call the boy would still hurl at him. 


	5. Chapter 5

Julian would think he'd have nightmares after all that transpired, but the first half of his sleep was rather calm. It was only then that the shadows set in and he relived the event from the village. He had woken before he saw his mother collapse again. Tired but unable to sleep further. Light already crept through the greenery covering the entrance. And so Julian stretched his limbs. Pushing off the fur blanket that had kept him warm at night but was now too hot on his still fully clothed form. His doublet was wrinkly from having slept in it, but in all honesty he couldn't care much about that now. He used to be so careful for all his clothes, now it seemed rather pointless. He had different priorities now. Like getting breakfast. His stomach reminded him with a deep rumble. He looked around to see a cloaked figure softly snoring on the opposite side of the cave. The demon must have made an improvised bed there. Because Julian was pretty sure he was occupying the original one. He bit his lip. He didn't want to wake the demon. Especially since suddenly touching him seemed to startle him.

Despite that Julian thought of last night, and the arm he felt around him. The way the demon sat with him after he asked the creature not to leave him alone. Julian huffed to himself.

"gods how embarrassing"

He mumbled. He looked around. His Lute sat by the end of the bed, and his boots beside it. He scooted forward and put them on. His feet embraced by the softness of the fur. His stomach rumbled again and so a trip to the pantry seemed in order. He took some bread, an apple and some grapes. Unaware of the crumbs leaving a trail on the floor. Carefully he approached the place where the demon laid asleep. The mask still in place. Julian wondered why the creature wore it. But he resisted the urge to take a peek. The chance was far too great that he would actually wake the demon. Instead he made his way outside. Catching some fresh air. Trying to relieve the heavy feeling in his chest. Maybe starting the day by doing something would help him get his priorities straight. Maybe it would allow him to figure out what to do with his life now that no one below actually wanted him to live it. Where could he go? 

Sunken into thought he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a neighing right in front of him.

"aah! oh... It's you! Gods have mercy, girl! you scared me."

He walked over to her. She seemed happy to see him. If the large head pressing against his chest was anything to go by.

"It's good to see you too. I'm sorry i don't know your name but your master doesn't exactly have the perfect communication skills at his disposal. I'll just call you Lady for now okay?"

Another bump against his chest seemed to tell him she agreed. He smiled and offered her some of the grapes. She happily picked them out of his hand, brushing her velvet nose against his palm. He shared his breakfast with her, knowing there was enough for him to eat later if he got hungry again. Besides he wanted to spoil her a little. She did save his life after all. If she hadn't acted then the villagers would have... _Best not to finish that sentence._ He shivered in his skin just thinking about it. Instead he looked up with a smile.

"You saved me back there you know. Last night? You're so brave and strong, i think you deserve to be spoiled at least a little for your service. How about a grooming session?"

She snorted but nodded with her head.

"Yeah i thought so too. Ooh! I could make braids in your manes. Would you like that?"

Another snort plus a nod. He was getting rather good at this. 

"Okay so if i get you then maybe i don't need words to communicate with him. But... It's more complicated then speaking to you. Your mood pretty much shines through. With him? I don't know what he's thinking. I wish i could ask why he hurt me if he went out of his way to apologize for it later you know? It doesn't make sense. Unless it's not willingly. Maybe he's suffering from something. But if i ask i could either not get an answer or he could get upset. Or both."

A bristle and a scrape of her hooves came as a response. Okay so maybe he wasn't as good at this as he liked to pretend. He didn't know what her response meant. The demon made it look so easy. But he would be kidding himself if he thought he could do it too after one day. 

"yeah... Anyway. Stay right here. I'm going to get something to tie off your braids with. And possibly some more food."

* * *

He spend a good chunk of his time feeding her an apple and a few more grapes and braiding her mane into neat little braids that he had perfected by always fidgeting with straw. It used to be something he did when he was bored or nervous. Braiding the straw together. He had gotten quite good at it, though thankfully horse hair was so much easier to braid. He managed to tear the ribbons from different packages and make them into smaller ribbons by chewing through them with his teeth. Not having a knife on hand. Then he braided her manes and tied each perfect little braid off with a ribbon. Working tirelessly and patiently through her luscious thick locks. She seemed very relaxed. Maneuvered with him when he guided her to a nearby log so he could reach her upper mane and she seemed half asleep under his grooming hands. All while he hummed to her and sang soft promises of more grooming sessions, treats and other things to spoil her with. 

He just finished the last braid and wanted to step off the log to admire his handy work when he saw the demon standing near the entrance of the cave. Somehow seeing him now brought a smile to Julian's face. And he knew he thanked the demon before but, letting him stay the night after what happened in the village was also a thing he should be thanking the demon for. Certainly because it didn't seem like this was easy on the creature. 

"You're up? I-.. you were sleeping. I... i didn't want to wake you. But i ehm.. Wanted to thank you for what you tried to do. Even if it didn't work."

The demon seemed to tense for a moment. Julian's smile faltered. Did he say something wrong? Then the demon turned around and abruptly walked away. Disappearing between the trees and bushes.

"Hey wait! Where are you going?"

There was no reply and the demon vanished from sight. Julian sighed. Well... he tried. Maybe he should have used different words? A push of a nose behind him made him turn around to the beautiful fire mare.

"Yes you look beautiful Lady. Like a princess." 

He patted her softly and caressed her nose. 

"Well, the day is half over already. Let's not waste the rest of it. I want to see some of the landscape around here. Care to walk with me?"

He chuckled. She seemed fine with it as she started a slow pace. Julian quickly fell into step beside her letting her take him to whatever place she wanted him to see. They weaved through trees and bushes and yet Julian didn't worry about getting lost. He had the mare with him. And she was clever as she was beautiful. With her he was sure to find the way back again. She stopped in a patch littered with wild flowers of various colors. Julian wished he had brought his lute. He'd have composed a song for this place on the spot, such peace and beauty it held. Instead he searched for the prettiest flowers. Picking some and carefully arranging them into the braids of the mare's mane. Gods he wished he knew her name. She was a lady yes but calling her lady or horse was not ideal. 

He also spotted some birds and some small scurrying animals. This place was peaceful and beautiful and clearly untouched by human hands. It looked so full of life and so healthy. More so then anything within a few miles of any human settlement. This place made Julian forget about the nasty things that happened to him. For a moment, he was happy and carefree. He left most flowers alone. Only picking a few to put in Lady's braids. He listened to the bird song and closed his blue eyes. Smiling to himself. After a while, Lady decided to go to the next spot to show him, and so he tagged along. She took him to the edge of the woods on the east side of the mountain, where it opened up into a green pasture with a lot of scorched hoof marks. This was probably either her favorite spot or her home. It wasn't too far from the Demon's home which explained half why she would be able to hear him whistle. The other half would only make sense if she had better hearing then most creatures. 

Julian walked through the tall grass, reaching down to let it tickle his fingers. It felt soft and smelled fresh and sharp like it did when it had rained. Yet the ground was dry but the scent strong. The mare sank through her knees and laid down in the pasture. Snoozing in the late afternoon sun. Julian smiled as he dropped himself next to her. Leaning against her large frame as he took in the gorgeous view they had from the mountain side. In the woods the trees prevented anyone from looking far out over the lower lands that laid next to the mountains. But here where there were no trees to block the view it amazed Julian how far he could actually look. They must be pretty high up. He stared at the other mountains, at the sky, the ground below, the murky river flowing through the bottom of the valley. And further to the west, a few puffs of smoke were rising through a thin line of trees. _The village_. Julian knew. A hollow feeling softly clawed at his gut as he watched the scenery. It was beautiful except for that one reminder of why he was sitting here.

He wrapped his arms around his knees. Hugging himself as if he wanted to protect himself from the hurt and the bitterness of those memories. Of their cold voices and their empty stares. The people he had known all his life had betrayed him and not one of them batted an eye doing so. Except for his dear mother. She may not be his blood, but he loved her as if he was born from her. And he missed her. Terribly so. He worried for her. The image of her collapsing was still fresh on his mind and he had to bite back the tears just thinking about it. The mare's large head came to rest beside him. Probably sensing his emotions, she attempted to comfort him. He reached out a hand, softly petting her head to mostly just calm himself. 

They remained there until the sky stared coloring in a gorgeous color scheme of reds, oranges, pinks and violets. Deepening until it slowly poured into purples and blues. Julian stood up. Sighing softly to himself. Then he turned to the large mare who looked at him serenely. As if they had always been friends. 

"It's getting late. I should go back."

She bristled softly and came to stand to her feet. Shaking off the loose grass and pollen from her coat and started walking in the direction which they came from. Julian walked beside her in silence. Gazing in awe at her eyes and hooves that seemed to become brighter and brighter as it grew darker. Of course that would have made sense, but the miraculous thing was that in daylight her eyes did not light up. They only did so at night. And the everlasting flames around her hooves were small and playful by day, while by night they were larger and fierce. Strong like their host. He also wondered how she regulated the burn of them. It had to be some form of magic. Because she only scorched her hoof prints. As she had did those flowers near the village. Julian fully believed she could set things ablaze by choice. And it amazed him. 

* * *

By the time they got back to the cave there was only a thin purple line left on the horizon, the rest of the sky had turned to darker shades of blue. Julian caressed the mare's velvet nose in thanks before he made his way inside. It was quite dark. The fire had gone out and there were just a few embers smoldering at the bottom. The demon still wasn't back. Julian carefully shuffled further in. Not really able to see much with the growing darkness. Maybe if he tried to put the embers together and place some fresh wood on them, he could get the fire going again. It took him quite a few tries to let even the smallest twig catch fire again, that's why he let out a small victory cry when he finally had a twig burning. However building the fire from there proved much more difficult then Julian had imagined. Twice the fire almost went out again but the boy kept trying. And slowly but steadily the fire grew back to a regular sized source of heat and light. 

Julian didn't quite know how much time had passed. But there was still no sign of the demon anywhere. Was it foolish to start worrying? The last thing Julian wanted to do was to chase the creature out of his own home. Then the greenery rustled and the demon came inside. Cloak and mask in place, Medallion dangling from his neck. He had two rabbits dangling from a rope and dropped them near the fire. For a second Julian wondered why the demon went out hunting if he had a pantry full of food. Was it instinct? A will to chase? Or something else? Something blinded Julian for a moment as the light reflected off an object in the demon's hands. He had grabbed a knife from somewhere. Small but beautiful, with an intricate wooden hilt that held the same kind of carvings as the shelves. Without a word the creature sat down and started to gut and clean the rabbits. It wasn't the most tasteful sight and Julian scrunched his nose and turned his head away. His eyes fell on his lute and he smiled. That would be enough to distract himself.

He took the instrument between his hands and let his fingers dance over the strings like they had always done. Making a soft melody that filled the silence. After a while a mouth watering scent of meat roasting started to fill the cave. Julian could feel his stomach growl as it settled in his nostrils. The rabbit was slowly cooking over the fire while they sat. The demon moved outside with a bucket of waste and got rid of it there. Then he went back inside and cleaned the furs he had left by the fire. Stretching them with twine across a rack near the cave entrance. Julian watched with fascination while his hands idly kept plucking at strings without a second thought. 

Then they ate in silence. Tender meat hot and fresh, bread and some carrots. It was simple but filling. And enough to stop the noises Julian's stomach made. After dinner, the demon retreated to his corner. To the makeshift bed he had made by arranging furs on the floor. He sat and he listened until Julian felt he was too tired to play anymore. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this took a bit longer. I'm in the middle of moving. But the next one should be as scheduled again.

Despite the boy calling out to him, the Demon had turned away from him. To hide from that sapphire gaze and calm his racing thoughts. His mind was utter chaos right now and he needed to find a way to get it back under control. Sometimes the best way to tame the beast within was to confront it with all the damage it had caused. To force it to curl up in a corner in shame and let it wallow in guilt for it's committed sins. He needed to meditate. To put things back in order. To get at least a little sense back. Enough to convince him he could go back to his old life after this. 

Heavy did his steps fall as he took a small path, nearly invisible to the human eye, further up the mountain towards a patch surrounded by boulders like nature's makeshift stone walls. Two curved trees standing as an arch way, bending under the weight of the grief and pain of this place. There, in the sadness and dark soil, the graves of his victims laid. Each with a wooden carved headstone with only a year to mark the person beneath. All these girls... The demon did not know their names. He could never ask them. He was never told. But he remembered their faces. He knew each of them by scent and by sight. He knew which girl laid where. How they died bloody and broken beneath the claws of his monstrous form. He could recall the fright in their eyes. The stench of fear leaking from every pore in their bodies. The terror in their voices as they screamed themselves hoarse. But he did not know their identities, their names. 

Coming to this place was not a thing he often did. He didn't want to come here at all, but he forced himself to go up from time to time to remind himself what he was doing and why and how these humans would stubbornly keep taunting him with these 'sacrifices' to make themselves believe he was the villain here. It was also a reminder of why he worked so hard to tether his control to the mask, cloak and medallion to be able to put imaginary bars into the cage he put his own beast in. Some of his kind would say it was foolish. And that he separated himself from his true form this way. That it made them prone to fight each other instead of existing as one being like they were supposed to. But if the choice was between being whole and murdering every human he came across, or the struggle within strengthened by solitude, his was easily made.

He sat down, kneeling before the graves. Resting his claws on his legs as he closed his eyes and brought his focus to his inner being. His head became light and the faces of the girls appeared to him. The way they were as he collected them. Frightful, but unharmed. One by one he allowed their memories to pass his mind, until a set of blue eyes made him halt. His eyes flew wide open. There it was again. That odd feeling in his stomach. He clutched his stomach with a hand. It felt twisted and weird and hollow at the same time. He tried to close his eyes again. But a part of his mind refused to cooperate. It kept thinking about the boy and everything that had happened to him since they met. The demon squeezed his eyes shut firmly. But it showed him images of the boy the demon did not want to see. 

His senses filled with the memory of pain, blood and tears. Of ruining that boy and then stubbornly sending him away only to receive him back again in tears and with a terrible heartache. Those sorrowful eyes haunted him and it upset him and his beast alike. The feeling in his gut only got worse. And as he thought about setting the boy free on the south path like he did all the others, his mind provided him the only thing the demon feared most. The image of a fresh grave. Heavy breathing accompanied his tense demeanor as his eyes flew open once again. Quickly taking a count of the graves in front of him. By the time he got to the last one his eyes were stinging. But he thanked the heavens that the number had not in fact increased like his mirage showed him. 

He was a spirit. Bound to nature and magics of a different realm. He knew a vision when he saw one. And he knew what it meant. He couldn't drive this boy away. Setting him loose on the path to the south would do the one thing he wanted to prevent. It would kill him. How was left open. Not provided by his vision. But the demon could take a good guess. The problem with this was that now that he realized he needed to let the kid stay, he also realized that he had no idea how to deal with that. He had lived alone for centuries. His mare came and went as she pleased. She was not around him like another person would. And even if she was with him for a longer time, it wasn't the same. He didn't know how to take care of anyone other then himself. All he could do was try and hope, pray, that the beast inside him would cooperate. What if it didn't? What if there was no saving him?

The demon rumbled to himself. Grumpy about all these anxious thoughts and these sad and negative feelings. All the chaos in his head was giving him a terrible headache. And being in this place did nothing to soothe it. He pulled off his mask. Taking a breath of fresh air. It instantly made him feel better and light headed at the same time. All the scents came in and filled his lungs and nose with a much sharper odor. The greenery, the grass, the dirt and sand, mud, even the rocks. He could take it all in without an obstacle. He knew he would also feel better if he hunted something fresh for dinner. Sure, he had a pantry filled with all kinds of things the humans gave him. And some things he needed to eat before they would go bad or stale or something like that. But other things were best kept for the winter. It was harder to hunt and harder to gather food then. 

* * *

He had hunted rabbits eventually. It was quite a challenge. They were small and fast. But he could easily catch them with heightened senses. His beast form was even more adapt at catching small prey that were faster then him, but with everything that transpired over the last two days he did not feel safe to let it out yet. He had also cleaned himself in the stream. He liked the fresh feel of it, even if it were cold. Sometimes he indulged himself and went a bit further up the peak towards a secret cavern that had a hidden jewel of nature in it. A hot spring. But it was a bit of a walk and the stream would serve for a bath just as well.

By the time he got back to the cave. The sky had darkened to it's deepest blue. There was light coming from the inside. The demon knew he left the fire unattended and thus it surprised him to find the fire burning. It seemed the boy had worked some life back into the flames. Good. One less thing he'd have to teach. If the boy was going to stay here he'd have to learn a few things about survival. Especially the first winter would be tough. And the demon wasn't exactly able to explain everything in detail. He had forgotten human language if he ever knew it at all. And unless the boy spoke his ancient language, there was little to communicate with. It would prove a challenge. And the demon had no idea how to go about this or even how to take care for someone other then his own. Primary needs, that he could do. He could give the boy food, a bed, show him where to bathe and that was that. The rest though... that would be a different story.

There was still some reluctance in this plan as the demon sat down across from the boy with the mask securely in place again. The fire between them, creating a safe distance. He still thought living with the boy would not be a safe bet. The demon didn't quite know how to act around the boy. Memories both good and bad tugged at him and called out urges that opposed each other. The bad memories urged him to apologize, to shy away in shame and guilt and avoid touching the kid all together. But that memory of the boy crashing into his arms. Sobbing. It wasn't pleasant for him, after what happened he had a right to be sad. But the demon had been baffled with amazement that while he held the boy in his arms, the creature inside of him made no move to devour him. It didn't even roar up or fight to break through to the surface. The demon didn't want to count himself lucky yet. But it was a memory that made him a little more at ease. 

He cleaned the rabbits above a bucket. Separating waste from flesh, bones and fur. All of which he could still use. The rest he threw out. The scent of blood peeked under his mask but to him, it smelled different from a human's blood. Animal blood had never triggered him so far. He placed the meat above the fire and let it cook while he went to the pantry to collect some ale, bread and a few carrots. He put some on a wooden plate he made himself and set it down beside the boy while he took some for himself and sat back near the fire. Out of range but in sight. They ate in silence. Then they cleaned up and retired in silence. Except for the strumming of that boy's instrument. The demon listened to it. Wondering what other marvels he had missed out there in his centuries of solitude. 

After a while the strumming stopped. The boy was fighting against sleep. The demon could see it on his features. He was tired. And yet, the boy did not lay down. He looked like he was in thought. Until he frowned and opened up his mouth. His soft light voice resonating in the air.

"Do you have a name?"

The demon frowned to himself. A name? Of course he had a name. Didn't everyone? Oh... but... of course the kid didn't know his name. Maybe he wanted to know. Yet... It was difficult to curl his tongue around the human language. He wasn't sure if he should make an effort.

"Hmm"

The demon replied. Question answered. He did have a name. But would that be enough? The boy snorted softly and sighed.

"As amusing as that would be, i don't think that's your name."

The demon tilted his head. He didn't get this boy. The way his mind worked. It was so...different. The demon said nothing. He looked down at his lap not knowing how to reply. This whole situation was just plain awkward. And so casual in a way that it was slightly unnerving. The boy yawned and laid down a small smile on his face.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me just yet."

He curled up and pulled the fur blanket over himself. Slowly dozing off. It left the demon in a confusing state. It kept him up a long while before his eyes finally drifted to a close.

* * *

Nightmares plagued him that night. He tossed and turned on the makeshift bed that gave too little comfort for some decent rest. He kept dreaming this hollow feeling crept up on him just before he'd shed all his humanity and turned into the beast that was his true form. He kept hearing screams. He kept smelling blood. A pair of blue eyes haunting him made him jolt awake. It took him quite some time to fall back asleep again.

Three days went by with a bit of a routine. The demon would go out and leave the boy to do as he pleased. Avoiding him mostly. He'd hunt or fish or work on an item of his home or clothing that needed replacement. And stay away until dark. They would eat by the fire. The boy played on his instrument and every night he asked the demon for his name. The demon didn't want to reply. Speaking common tongue was hard and the last thing he wanted was to be laughed at. That might just cause more problems with the beast inside. After these three days he had imagined that weird feeling would have gone away by now, and the beast more active in it's struggle. But around the boy it was passive and calm. And yet the demon avoided touching him with the high exception of putting salve on the mark on his shoulder. He also avoided being around the boy without any of his relics. Still very much convinced he could kill the boy if he let his guard down. Or worse... repeat the first night.

The fourth day, something was different. The demon smelled it when he entered. He couldn't really place it though. So when he started tending to the fire and to their meal, he was surprised to find the boy shifting and holding up a small flower.

"You know.. I keep asking for your name. But today i realized i didn't even tell you mine..."

He turned the flower in his hand. The demon eyed him curiously. The boy seemed to contemplate something. Hesitant at first but then it looked like something just clicked and he decided who he wanted to be when introducing himself.

"I'm... My name is Dandelion."

 _Dandelion?... Dan.de.li.on... Difficult name. Common tongue. Impossible to pronounce. There has to be something easier._ The demon shook his head. He wouldn't be able to say it. Even if he now knew the boy by name. The kid seemed to misinterpret the head shake. He must have thought the demon didn't understand. Because he held up said equally named flower with a smile.

"Dandelion. See? Like the flower. That's me."

The demon tilted his head. Scooting a little closer he carefully reached out with a clawed hand. The boy handed him the flower. Some would say it was a weed, but it was in fact a remarkable little thing. These flowers grew even on difficult places. Thrived in very harsh circumstances. And when the time was right, they renewed themselves into a softness ready to be spread out by the wind to new and unknown places. The demon held the flower up.

_"Jaskier"_

He said. Using his own language for the flower. Which was much easier and rolled off the tongue in a pleasant way. Much better then Dandelion. 'Jaskier' was short. Powerful. Surprising. Like the flower itself. 

"What? The Dandelion?"

The boy pointed to the flower and the demon returned it to the boy's grip. He hummed low and nodded.

"hmm."

The kid gazed at the flower while it mouthed the word in old tongue a few times.

"Jaskier... Jas.kier... Jask.ier?.. Ja.skier... Jaskier.. I like it!"

He smiled and tucked the flower behind his ear. 

"Nice to meet you then. I'm Jaskier."

It surprised the demon. The boy seemed to accept it so easily. His bright smile and his new name combined woke a strange feeling in the demon again. Something fluttered in his stomach. The demon blamed it on being hungry. He had learned to eat with his back towards the boy so he could shove the mask up a bit and slide it back in place when done. It shouldn't prove a problem now. But this strange flutter kept him from turning around. He stared at the boy and the yellow petaled dot, brightly sticking out among the mop of brown hair. A name... even if it was a new one... A name was something he had never known before. It stunned him a little.

"So... I don't want to press. But i am really curious as to what i call you. And your mare. What do you call her? I've been calling her lady simply because i did not know her name."

The demon grunted a little. Ah yes. Płotka. The turncoat had sided with the boy these past few days. Rather fond of him for some reason. Which the demon did not fully understand. Płotka didn't particularly like humans. Or most other two legged creatures. The only reason she had such a special bond with the demon was because he found her injured as a young filly a long time ago. He helped her back to good health and in return she stayed close and kept him company from time to time. 

"... Płotka"

The demon answered shortly. The boy frowned a bit.

"Is that... Her name or yours?"

The demon gestured to the entrance. It was enough to let the boy _Jaskier_ Know that it was the mare's name.

"Płotka... I would like to know what that means one day. So... What about you? Still not ready to tell me yet? It's okay. Maybe you're worried i might say it wrong. I don't want to insult you. I just like to be able to use a name for you. It makes me feel less like... you're a thing. Like a chair. Or a cloth. Or... Or... something. A name makes you a person you know? I mean, i-"

 _Jaskier_ Rambled on in his usual chatty fit, but the demon could sense some nervousness coming from the boy, all the way from where he sat. The kid really put in some effort. And since he let the demon pick his new name for goodness sake, something in return was in order. The demon hesitated. He didn't want the boy to think he was fluent in common tongue. He wasn't. But his name was a bridge for the gap between ancient and common tongue. His mother had used it as a sign of hope. Though the demon never viewed it as something that worked. Perhaps it would serve him today.

"...Ger.... Geralt..."

Jaskier (gods that was weird to get used to, calling him that.) widened his eyes and fell quiet. For a moment the demon worried that Jaskier might laugh. But he didn't. His eyes lit up like two stars twinkling and his smile doubled. It was so wide it looked like his face might crack any given moment.

"Geralt... That is your name? Geralt? It's... Unexpected. I imagined something more difficult to say. I'm glad it isn't though.... Geralt. It's a nice name."

The boy scooted a little closer and though the demon itched to move away, he was simply too dumbstruck to move. The boy carefully held out a hand to him.

"It's nice to finally meet you Geralt."

The demon stared at the hand. Knowing what was meant but... Hesitantly he reached out but then his clawed hand came into view. The strong urge came up to shove that hand under his cloak and he did. It was ugly and made to hurt others. Not to meet them and shake hands. The boy lowered his hand. Nodding. As if he understood. Even if he smelled slightly of disappointment. 

"Thank you for telling me."

The boy / _Jaskier_ / moved back to his position on the bed and grabbed his lute. Plucking at the strings with something of a new melody. The demon could only sit there and listen and wonder. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for those who actually speak Polish, if this doesn't make any sense grammar or word wise. I don't actually speak Polish myself and i am dependent on the internet for most of my translations. I apologize if it's inaccurate.

* * *

Julian was tired. Sleep was tugging at him. And yet he couldn't let himself lay down and drift off. Too many thoughts were running around in his head. Though he was too tired to play on his lute any longer, his mind was still too sharp to let his eye lids grow as heavy as his fingers felt. Despite that he couldn't stop yawning. It was a struggle and a mixture of sleep and wake, of peace and turbulent thoughts. He eyed the demon in the corner from time to time. Trying to pick apart the details of the other's appearance underneath the cloak and the mask. Why the creature was insistent on wearing them, Julian didn't know. He never actually saw the demon's face. Just the piercing golden amber eyes. He had felt the claws on the demon's hands. As he had also felt a sharp set of fangs that he knew were there without every having seen them. He knew the demon had white hair, and white horns. He had seen him once without a cloak. That very first night. The imposing four horns had been covered by the black fabric ever since. Yet Julian couldn't shake the image. And he wondered why one of them was broken.

He realized that he also didn't know if the creature even had a name. In his head he had been calling the demon just that. Demon. Or creature. In speech he could only say 'you' and thus speak directly. But if he had a name, Julian didn't know it. He wouldn't be able to call from a distance. He wouldn't be able to address this creature properly as a person. After all, what person had no name? Thinking about it in addition to his never ending curiosity, it compelled Julian to ask the Demon. Carefully and softly breaking the silence between them.

"Do you have a name?"

Silence followed at first. Julian wasn't sure if that meant 'no' or if the demon simply ignored him or chose not to answer. Maybe he didn't want to say at all.

"hmm"

He grunted and shifted on his makeshift bed to lay down, curled up with the cloak around him. It must not be pleasant to sleep in. Especially the mask. But when Julian thought of asking why he wore it, the boy remembered the first night and what happened when the mask came off. _The demon had bit him. Fangs sinking into his skin drawing blood._ Would that happen each time the mask came off? Maybe it was better not to ask. Instead he chuckled. Replying to the grunt tossed his way.

"As amusing as that would be, i don't think that's your name."

If he got a glare from the creature he deserved it. It was a rather bad joke but it lightened the mood some. And joking and talking made Julian feel a bit more at ease. After all... This was only going to be a pleasant home if he put some effort into it. sleep finally took control in the struggle and Julian allowed himself to lay down. 

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me just yet."

He mumbled. He wasn't going to push the demon into talking. Especially because they were living together now. For some reason it just happened this way. Julian was pretty sure that if the demon didn't want or like this arrangement he'd either send Julian away again or he'd still kill the boy. But considering all the trouble he went through with the clothes and the food and salve and trying to send him home... Julian didn't think that was likely. He already figured he couldn't go back. And to be quite honest he wasn't at all prepared to hit the road and move on from here. He dreamed of a life as a travelling bard. Sure. But actually going was a different thing. He wasn't prepared for that. Or any of this really. The only thing he could do day after day was just dealing with one day at a time. Besides... He had nothing. Not even most of his old possessions. The villagers buried them as they always did. Even before they tried to kill him for coming back. He had no coin, no clothes beside the ones the demon managed to snatch, which he was ever grateful for. No satchel or bag or map or even plan for where he wanted to go to. Staying seemed the only option for now. Maybe if he had the time and prepared he would be able to hit the road after a little while. 

These thoughts occupied him as he slowly drifted into a sleep that was deeply troubled with more bad memories that made him tired in the morning despite the many hours of rest.

* * *

Three days went by in which Julian didn't really know what to do with himself. There was a bit of a routine to it though. In the morning, the demon would go off into a random direction. Leaving him on his own. The fire mare would arrive at a calm pace and snort as soon as she saw him. He would find the flowers in her hair wilted and charred, probably just due to her nature instead of purposely having burned them. So he'd pick them out of her mane and search for new ones to place there. The braids held well. As did the ribbons. He'd spend the day with her. Either visiting new places on the mountain side, yet never too far from the cave. The mare pretty much felt uncomfortable being too far away. And Julian could understand that feeling quite well. Even though it was a double feeling, He got hurt there and he was protected in the same place. He suffered at the demon's hands at first but now he was cared for. 

He'd change into another set of clothes every two days and attempted to wash the one he wore. Beside the blue one, the demon had brought two more outfits he managed to save from his possessions. Yet one was a little worn and the other a little tight. Since he had nothing else it would have to do. He filled his days like that. Sometimes he brought his lute and while the mare would drop herself satisfied into a field of flowers he'd sit next to her and play some songs. Old and new, with or without song. She seemed most fond of a little cheery tune that was originally about a little girl chasing butterflies. But Julian had expertly revised the lyrics into something about a young playful filly turning into a strong mare. In the evenings she'd bring him back safely to the cave. Usually he would be the first one to arrive there. Then the demon would come back with some fresh game from the hunt or some fresh fish and they'd eat their meal. Before and after which Julian played on his lute. Songs without lyrics mostly, because unlike with the mare, he didn't quite know how he felt singing for the demon. It made him a little nervous. He did however bravely ask for the demon's name once every evening. Yet he never pressed for it.

Till thus far the demon remained unresponsive to his request. Julian had tried several ways to phrase the question differently. And yet it still supplied him no answer. When he was thinking about it on the fourth day in the afternoon, he realized that the not-knowing was actually two sided. The demon didn't know him by name either. With everything that had happened Julian simply hadn't thought of introducing himself or giving the demon his name to call him by. He was sunken into thought so much that he was surprised to see something fall into his lap. He looked up. The mare had plucked a dandelion from her mane and dropped it into his lap. He smiled and picked it up from his leg. Twisting the stem in his fingers so it twirled the flower around. 

The dandelion brought Julian's thoughts back to Nana. And his smile fell from his face. He worried for her. The way she collapsed. He worried for her health. Her poor heart that must have broken so horribly. She was the only one in the entire town that wanted to welcome him back. He knew she didn't push forward to defend him. And he knew that she had been too scared to defend him the first time. But despite that he didn't wish any illness or harm on her. He forgave her for that. And he just hoped she would be alright, but a part of him worried that she wouldn't be. _oh mother... Not of blood but of the heart. I hope you are alright Nana._ He cradled the flower close to his chest. Her affectionate nickname for him was all he had left of her now. She called him Dandelion. For his ever growing desire to wander and discover new places. 

He felt heavy when he sat by the fire that night. The flower still between his fingers. The demon entered and busied himself with the fire and food as usual. Julian did not grab for his lute. Not right away.

"You know.. I keep asking for your name. But today i realized i didn't even tell you mine..."

Julian said softly. Looking up with a light in his eyes that was something between guilt, knowledge and excitement. So.. the set up was there. Now he was to introduce himself first. But what did he want to be called? In a way this was a bit of a new start. And besides... _Julian is dead._ Echoed in his head too often since the villagers kicked him out and attempted to murder him for coming back. They were right though... His old life... The safety of the farm... That night took it all away. It was all over. Whoever he was before, he wasn't the same boy now. _Dandelion!_ Yes how happy Nana had been to see him. It ached. He hesitated. Thinking about this decision. Taking on a new name was not a thing done lightly. But with all of this, the fresh start, finally trying to communicate with this creature before him, a new name seemed fitting. And so he decided.

"I'm... My name is Dandelion."

He smiled as he looked up, feeling good about this new name. But his smile faltered a bit as the demon shook his head. Did he not understand. Julian frowned and twirled the flower in his hand. Of course! The flower! He held it up and gestured at it to the demon. Maybe that would help.

"Dandelion. See? Like the flower. That's me."

Then the demon did something he had not willingly done before, (with the exception of the moments in the evening where he helped put salve on the part of the wound Julian couldn't reach), he carefully shifted a little closer. A large hand reaching out with it's sharp nails. Reaching for the flower. Julian reached out with it and witnessed the fingers carefully closing around the stem. The demon gently took it from his hand and seemed to gaze at the flower a little. Then he held it up.

_"Jaskier"_

He said. Dumbstruck Julian gazed at it. The demon spoke to him. In his own language perhaps. But this was in fact something new. Something other then the hums or grunts he usually got for a reply. He only ever heard the demon speak to his mare before. It made him tingle. This.. this was a good sign. Maybe the Demon was finally thawing towards him. More used to his company now. Although the creature still seemed set on avoiding him like the plague. Probably because of what happened that first night. But with all that he tried to do and how he made sure that Julian had all he needed, food, a place to sleep and a place to bathe, Julian had forgiven him already. He still full heartedly believed that it hadn't been the demon's intention to hurt him.

"What? The Dandelion?"

He asked to be sure that it was indeed what the demon meant. But it seemed to be just that.

"Hmm"

The demon said to confirm it. Julian took the flower back from the demon and rolled the stem between his fingers. Caressing the outer petals with his fingers. Trying out the syllables of the strange language with his own mouth. His tongue curling around the strange sounds and his lips forming around the word as he tried to accurately say it. 

"Jaskier... Jas.kier... Jask.ier?.. Ja.skier... Jaskier.. I like it!"

He really did. It had... something. Something otherworldly. Mystical. Even though it simply was the name of the flower he was holding. And it was special. It was the first thing the Demon ever said to him directly. Nana would appreciate the sentiment. It was merely another word for her own nickname she gave him. Julian decided that this held meaning. That this was perfect for a new start and a new life. This would be his new name. He stuck the flower behind his ear. A nod to himself for deciding this.

"Nice to meet you then. I'm Jaskier."

He smiled, wider then he had in a while. Yes it sounded just right. This was a special name. One he would be happy to use. It would take some getting used to calling himself Jaskier. But in the end it was well worth it. That landed him on the next issue. Now he had a name. Whether the demon would call him by it or not was a different thing but... He still didn't know what to call the demon. And shouting 'hey you' ever so often wasn't going to work. 

"So... I don't want to press. But i am really curious as to what i call you. And your mare. What do you call her? I've been calling her lady simply because i did not know her name."

Jaskier (Gosh such a pretty name. _Takes some getting used to though._ ) disguised the question in one dipped in a second question to make it less personal. Perhaps speaking about his mare would ease the demon somewhat. Although... All the time the girl spend with Juli-Jaskier was time not spend with the demon. Would he be upset about that? But to _Jaskier's_ surprise the demon once again replied. A short reply made with a low and gruff voice, huffed out almost. But a reply none the less.

"... Płotka"

Jaskier tilted his head. Now that was a different kind of name. One he couldn't really compare to any name he'd heard before. He knew there were odd or mysterious names out there. But this was a bit more challenging to say and sounded completely different from anything he was used to. Jaskier wasn't sure what it meant or who's name it was. Carefully he decided to ask.

"Is that... Her name or yours?"

The demon gestured to the entrance. It was enough to let Jaskier know that it was the mare's name. Somehow that got him into a bit of a nervous fit again. The demon said the Mare's name before he even announced his own. Maybe he really didn't want to share it. Maybe he thought Jaskier wouldn't be able to pronounce it. Or laugh at him for it? Surely not!

"Płotka... I would like to know what that means one day. So... What about you? Still not ready to tell me yet? It's okay. Maybe you're worried i might say it wrong. I don't want to insult you. I just like to be able to use a name for you. It makes me feel less like... you're a thing. Like a chair. Or a cloth. Or... Or... something. A name makes you a person you know? I mean, i-"

Jaskier felt a bit challenged with trying to drag the name out of the demon and yet without trying to pressure him or annoy him into spilling it. He felt a bit nervous for it until...

"...Ger.... Geralt..."

It was soft. Hesitant. A low rumble. But it was unmistakably, a name. And not one the boy expected at all! He had expected more ancient language. Or perhaps something even more beautiful yet complicated to pronounce. Or something that sounded even more strange when compared to human language. But this... This was a name and... it was surprisingly... _human._ The demon obviously had to make an effort in pronouncing his own name, which made Jaskier even more amazed. 

"Geralt... That is your name? Geralt? It's... Unexpected. I imagined something more difficult to say. I'm glad it isn't though.... Geralt. It's a nice name."

Jaskier showed him a twinkle eyed smile and carefully stretched out a hand, while scooting a little closer.

"It's nice to finally meet you Geralt."

The demon seemed frozen in place for a second before slowly reaching out to Jaskier's surprise. Unfortunately, before they even touched to shake hands, the demon- Geralt, retracted his hand and hid it under his cloak. Jaskier bit his lip and nodded, pulling his own hand back. Slightly disappointed and yet, they had made more progress in one evening then they had in four days. He now knew the Demon's name was Geralt. And he didn't have to refer to him as demon or creature so often in his head anymore. Of course it would take some getting used to. But at last he was able to just speak to him like he would to any other person.

"Thank you for telling me."

Jaskier finally moved to pick up his lute for their usual music filled evening and started playing a calm song. Yet he could feel his heart flutter at the knowledge that they had exchanged names. It really meant things were changing. It meant he was allowed to stay. Right?

The demon retreated to his usual corner. It still bugged Jaskier a little that he had kicked Geralt (now THAT took some getting used to) out of his own bed. Though not by choice. He played until they were both tired and fell prey to sleep easily.

* * *

Something changed after that. It wasn't alarming. In fact the change was rather small. But for the next five days, Geralt stayed inside a little longer in the mornings. Picking up a few things to do here and there in the cave before he'd go out to hunt. Jaskier would drag out his own morning to stay with Geralt a little longer before filling the day in the company of Płotka. The rest of the day was still pretty much the same. Till thus far Jaskier had been able to busy himself with certain things. But there would be a time when he would slowly get bored. Maybe he should ask if there was anything that he could do?

The nightmares were still frequent. In fact they bothered Jaskier every night. Not knowing if Nana was okay made everything just so much worse. Sometimes he'd jolt awake before she collapsed. Sometimes he saw her fall to the ground. It was horrible. 

This particular night, was the worst. He felt everything as if it was happening all over again. He saw it as if it was real. But this time it did not end with his mother tumbling to the ground in grief and pain. _She succumbed to her heartbreak and she died. On the spot. Eyes wide open with shock. Pale as a white sheet. Jaskier cried out in horror. But nothing could save her. The image changed to her grave and her headstone was engraved with the words 'cursed mother to a cursed child'_

Jaskier screamed and sat up straight in bed with wide eyes open. Sweat dripped from every pore and the shivers violently ran down his back. He was panting, breathing heavily. And his chest felt so tight, like it was squeezing his heart into a pulp. He felt a strong hand on his shoulder and looked up wide eyed. Met with a cloak and mask that had golden eyes shining behind them. The tears came faster then he could stop them. Burning his eyes as they welled up so fast they rolled down his cheeks without his blinking. Thick salty drops rolling down his night shirt, onto the fur that kept him warm. He crawled closer. And though the demon usually avoided touching him, he stayed where he was. Geralt allowed him to crawl closer and claw his fingers into the cloak, pressing his face into the demon's chest. Geralt rumbled softly as a strong arm softly wrapped around Jaskier's shaking form. 

"S-she died.. She... S-she's d-dead... Mother's d-dead... I s-saw her fall.."

Jaskier sobbed into Geralt's chest. Even if the demon had no idea what he was saying or what to do with all of this, him just sitting there, holding him was enough to anchor Jaskier and tether him to a sense of protection and comfort. Without that he probably would have gone hysterical. Or worse. But he was allowed to cry and sob and slowly calm down against the warm embrace of a creature who usually avoided touching him like one would avoid the plague. 

_"To był sen. To nie było prawdziwe."_

Geralt told him softly. Jaskier didn't know what it meant. But the rumbling voice alone soothed him.

"Hmm... b-... bad dream... Not... Not real."

Jaskier's eyes flew wide open. The low voice was laced with a heavy accent, but the demon had definitely spoken words. Human words. Flawed though they were, the effort surprised Jaskier greatly. He pulled back a little. Staring into those golden eyes. Searching for.... Something.

"You... You talk? I mean of course you do but... You speak human language?"

The demon hummed and his eyes darted away before he looked back and shook his head.

_"Troszeczkę."_

He gestured with his hands something that could be read as a sign for a tiny amount. So... Not very much or very good then. But he tried! Jaskier hiccuped once because of his sobbing but found his surprise had stopped him from crying. He took a sleeve and rubbed his face dry. 

"But you understand... You just can't speak it?"

"Hmm"

A nod confirmed it. This was... An entirely new revelation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- "It was a dream. It wasn't real."  
> \- "A little."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: progress! If all goes well the next chapter may come early. No promises though. And for those of you who are getting impatient, all good things come to those who wait ;) Special thanks to Gloomierdays who has offered to help me with Polish translations. I will make use of that in future chapters and i am incredibly grateful for the opportunity. Happy reading.

* * *

After the exchanging of their names, it seemed to become a little more bearable to be around the kid for longer periods of time. The demon also noticed he seemed to slowly become less angsty and fearful around the teen. And yet he still did not dare to face him without any sort of control or grip on his form and senses. The beast was still unpredictable. Sometimes it reacted when Geralt expected nothing. And sometimes it did nothing when Geralt expected it to roar up and claw its way out. Yet Jaskier treated him like a normal person. His ease made it more comfortable to be around him. Even though sometimes the demon still felt the beast growl if he got a strong whiff of the boy's scent. The longer he was exposed to it however, the less violent the reactions became. 

Jaskier also liked to chat. About everything and nothing. Just talking about nothing in particular. Sometimes talking to himself, sometimes talking to Geralt who never answered with anything but a hum or a nod or shake of his head. There wasn't much else they had to communicate with. Geralt couldn't really speak human language, and Jaskier didn't understand the ancient language. Despite that barrier it didn't seem to interfere in their routine. The demon found little chores to do around their home to drag out the mornings and yet not lounge around without purpose. He fixed things that were a little worn. Was working on new boots for Jaskier that would fit better then this pair. Because they were too big and sagging on the boy's legs. And worked on a new stool for by the fire. Since one of them had a cracked leg. He could still turn that one into a side table or a shelf if he fixed it, it just wasn't good for sitting on anymore.

Despite being used to silence all his life, Geralt found that the endless chatter of the boy was actually something that improved his life. Along with the Lute playing around and after dinner time, which he greatly enjoyed in secret even if Jaskier repeated the melody of a song he had played several times before. You'd think it would get annoying after a while. But that didn't turn out to be the case. It was comforting. Nights however, were still restless. The demon was often still plagued by either haunted memories of his misdeeds or nightmares of possibilities that could have, but did not happen. Geralt woke up at least two or three times each night from the force of his own nightmares. And each time his eyes skipped to the bed to see if Jaskier was still safely asleep and unharmed. Well... unharmed... Though the salve managed to help heal the bite on Jaskier's shoulder and the skin slowly knitted back together, he knew it would scar. Not marred or raised like so many of his own scars, but there would be two crescent moons of slightly whiter skin then the rest. Perhaps, in a few summer months it would finally fade as the skin would be allowed to color in sunlight. 

Guilt still ate at him whenever he needed to help care for the bite. It kept reminding him how he had lost control and how even after hundreds of years he was still vulnerable and at war with himself. He and the monster inside were suppose to be one being. He realized they never actually were. He had always been broken. Never whole. And this was the result. If only he was stronger. And yet on certain moments, when Jaskier said something or did something, he could hear the beast purr and for a second it felt like they were closer then they've ever been. More of a whole then two separate beings fighting over the same body. Yet the feeling never stayed. And it was right back to the struggle he had put up with for the length of his existence.

* * *

That particular struggle kept him up this night. It was a full moon out. There was a misconception about the moon phases and their own kind. They were not like the fabled wolves greatly affected by the moon's form. But the problem was that the misconception made the full moon phases popular to beast hunters. Instinctively around a full moon, Geralt knew the beast inside was always on guard. He had made the mistake before to ignore the moon's full phase and he paid the price for it. A broken horn to grace his head where a whole one should have been. Never again. 

Being awake or at least conscious while resting was nothing new. What was new however was the squirming and restlessness coming from across the cave. The demon could sense it. Scent it even. A mixture of sadness and inner pain, still unshed tears brimming to force their way out. Geralt sat up, confused. Then he noticed how Jaskier was squirming in his sleep and the mere expression on his face tore into him like the beast raked a physical claw over his heart. A sharp pain echoing inside as he watched the boy trash and force out the most unpleasant noises that sounded filled with horror and terror. The beast inside played up as if it was ready to pounce and claw at the invisible monsters plaguing the boy in his sleep. Geralt pushed it down but it did urge him to go to the boy's side and wake him. To spare him from the shadows that made him squirm like that. He knew from experience it was better to wake then to have the nightmares play out. Unfortunately there was no one there ever to wake him and spare him. The only thing he could do for the boy was make sure it wouldn't happen to him too.

Just as he reached out and gripped at the boy's shoulder, Jaskier sat up screaming. His blue eyes wide, wet and swirling with pain, anger, _fear._ The cold violent shivers of his smaller body pushed a new scent into the demon's direction. Something he hadn't smelled on the boy before. The fear that he so evidently lacked on that first night was here now. But... It wasn't for him. In fact, the minute the boy turned his blue orbs to look at him, the smell of fear seemed to fade away. Instead an incredible sadness took it's place. Jaskier let himself fall forward and though Geralt could feel himself flinch a little bit, he didn't move away when the boy crawled closer to him and started sobbing uncontrollably into his shirt. It hurt. The tears felt hot even through the fabric and all Geralt could do was throw an arm around the boy to comfort him like he had done when the kid came riding back from the village. He had no clue how to comfort Jaskier otherwise. This was entirely new to him.

"S-she died.. She... S-she's d-dead... Mother's d-dead... I s-saw her fall.."

The beast in Geralt whined at the words. Disliking the hurt as much as the demon himself. The creature wanted Jaskier to stop sobbing, because the sound was too painful to listen to. And Geralt could only rumble in agreement to that. Yet he couldn't forcefully make the tears go away. There had to be another way. He had to tell the boy that it wasn't real. Maybe he lacked the proper communication, but he'd be damned if he didn't try. He let Jaskier crawl closer. Clutching at the fabric of his cloak and his shirt while the hot tears wet the fabric. The smaller form shaking in his arms was almost unbearable. 

_"To był sen. To nie było prawdziwe."_

He murmured softly. Though Geralt very well knew Jaskier would probably not understand a word he said. The shaking did seem to become less. Perhaps it was the low tone in his voice that already worked somewhat soothing. But it wasn't enough. And he so desperately wished the boy's grief to go away. Looking for the right words was hard. Speaking them even harder. But he wanted to make an effort. Like Jaskier made an effort for him every day by not being disheartened by his inability to communicate or reply. He kept trying, kept talking. Even asked an opinion as if he would be able to get a full reply. Geralt had to let the words roll through his head before he let them roll through his mouth. Softly trying to curl his lips and his tongue around the foreign sounds to make out the words he never used otherwise.

"Hmm... b-... bad dream... Not... Not real."

Gods that sounded awful. The demon tried not to cringe at his own heavy accent. But it seemed it had taken much more effect then he thought it would. Because the boy pulled back and stared at him wide eyed. Those blue orbs of his filled with nothing but surprise and wonder _and fond admiration it seemed._ The demon was sure he was coloring in his face and thanked his mask for once for covering his features. Jaskier seemed to still and hiccuped once or twice before his crying had stopped completely. 

"You... You talk? I mean of course you do but... You speak human language?"

Those blue eyes looked into his own golden ones. So deep, as if they were searching for something. It almost embarrassed Geralt. Speaking... If you call it that. More like forcing out something that could have meant anything because he isn't even sure he said it right. Geralt looked away. But then remembered he had a question to answer. Speaking was perhaps not the best word for what he could do with human language. But at least he wasn't completely mute when it came down to the use of words not his own. He shook his head and pinched his fingers together.

_"Troszeczkę."_

Was the answer. It was enough to show Jaskier that he wasn't really adapt at human language. But that he would and could try, if the situation called for it. But that was it. The bare minimum. Not even that. He was certain that if he attempted more words at once the grammar and choice of words wouldn't make much sense. There were such different words for the same meaning it was hard to tell them apart. Or the same word had different meanings. It was... confusing at best. Jaskier however seemed to light up at the reply. Even though it was so very little, apparently it was more then enough for the kid.

"But you understand... You just can't speak it?"

Well, yes. Understanding wasn't the hard part. Even if he didn't get all of it, he got the general idea.

"Hmm"

he replied. A nod following the low hum. Jaskier looked as if he had become a still life for a moment. Completely unmoving, dumbstruck almost. The demon almost worried he broke the boy in a completely new and different way until Jaskier's smile returned to his face and lit up like the sun.

"All this time i was worried i was just chatting nonsense to you! I'm so relieved. You know what Geralt? I can teach you. If you want to."

Wait.... what? Now it was Geralt's turn to look dumbstruck. For as far as his eyes allowed that anyway. This kid... Jaskier. Was going to teach him to speak human? Geralt didn't quite know how to react to that. Hell, he didn't know how he _felt_ about that. In the end... it would improve their communication greatly. Since they were practically living together now, maybe that wasn't such a bad idea.

"Hmm"

Geralt hummed again. He nodded. Agreeing to the lessons. If Jaskier thought he could be patient enough with Geralt to teach him human speech, then Geralt would make an effort to be patient enough to learn. The boy seemed to smile satisfied at the acceptance of his proposal. But then his smile fell again. The demon shifted uncomfortably. The boy's heartbeat was a bit elevated. Did the nightmare still have effect? Was he sick? Why was he-

Then Jaskier reached out to him. Slowly and carefully. And Geralt knew exactly where those hands were going. Before they could even touch the edge of his mask he pulled away instantly. As if those fingertips had burned him. Fear crept up on him like an icy chill. And out of pure instinct and reflex, he growled. Jaskier pulled back, startled but not flinching.

"Sorry! I'm sorry. I should have asked.."

Jaskier looked disappointed. It tugged at the demon. In a way, it wasn't fair. The boy let Geralt give him a new name. He stayed and he offered to teach him to speak human. He kept so calm under all of these changes. Never even cowered for him in fear or blamed him in flaming anger for what he did the first night they met. And he, a powerful spirit being, was too much of a coward to even show his face. He blamed it on the ability to smell much more then an average being, animal or human. But honestly, they had been around each other for almost two weeks now. The scent was something he had gotten used to. It didn't call out such violent responses anymore. So he really had no other excuse left. And yet he couldn't bring himself to take it off. Too worried that the boy might still draw away from him if he saw what was underneath. 

"I'm sorry"

The boy said again. But Geralt shook his head. No... There was nothing to be sorry for. He sat an arms length away from the boy who looked down at his lap, fidgeting with his fingers until he looked up.

"I ehm... I wanted to ask... I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I am thankful that you're letting me stay, but... I'm actually quite bored. I mean i had chores to do by day back on the farm and... well... I'm just not used to sitting around doing nothing. I mean i loved it the first few days. But i was wondering if there is anything i can do? I don't mind making myself useful. I mean... I can't hunt or fish obviously but... ehm. I could... i could do other things."

The demon tilted his head. It was true he kind of left the boy to his own devices. He himself always found something to do. Even if he wasn't hunting or fishing. Then he was usually working on woodcarvings. Or the upkeep of the area surrounding the cave he lived in. Or wood cutting to keep the fire going. All of these things really. He thought about it. He even tried to make a vegetable garden once, but he wasn't very good at the upkeep of it. On top of that the garden was a dead give away that he was living here and several hunters had come to try and kill him. It left the garden in ruins and after four times of trying to build it back up again, the demon had stopped trying.

"hmm"

Another hum was the only response he could give right now. But it sounded a bit like: _i'll think about it._

* * *

The next day was a bit different then usual. It was the first day they fully spend in each other's company. Since Jaskier said he wanted to make himself useful, Geralt thought he could be teaching him a few chores easily done inside. Like cleaning the firepit if the pile of ashes became too much. How to build a fire from scratch. Then he brought some clean furs and started teaching Jaskier how to sew them together. Teaching him how to use the old but sharp sheers he had. Starting with a blanket, that was the easiest to piece together. 

In the mean time, Jaskier tried to teach him some simple words. Starting from greetings, to just naming the things they were using as they worked. Geralt was a little shy in repeating the words Jaskier taught him. Quickly put off by his own heavy accent. But Jaskier never berated him for it. Never scolded him or told him he did it wrong. He just gently encouraged the demon to try again. And repeated the word as often as Geralt would need it to get it right. Of course loose words did not make very good conversations on their own. But slow and steady was still progress. And it was more then the demon ever would have dared to hope. 

Along with the speech lessons, their work required them to spend longer periods of time in closer proximity. It gave Geralt the time he needed to get comfortable with another presence. And it even helped him to stop flinching every time he and the boy brushed, or touched hands. Jaskier hadn't again attempted to reach for his mask. Which was something that vexed the demon still. 

* * *

Another week went by like this. If Geralt were completely honest with himself, as uncomfortable or odd as it had been in the beginning, he now couldn't imagine living alone again like he had all these years. It took some adapting, yes. But it was well worth it. Even if they did not spend the entire day together every day. (it appeared his firemare was quite the jealous type when it came to the only human she apparently could tolerate or even liked.) Geralt suspected she was just looking to be groomed more often because Jaskier had an actual skill for that. 

Along with getting used to the company, the nightmares started to become less. In both intensity and frequency. Even though Jaskier still had nightmares almost every night and it woke the demon up instead of his own nightmares. He always calmed the boy first before he went back to his own bed and back to sleep. Tonight was no different. Ever since Jaskier had returned from the village he had cried out for his mother several times in his sleep. He was crying out for her now too. It had to be the not knowing that made it this bad. Ignorance wasn't always bliss. He had said so. Without Geralt even asking for it, Jaskier had talked to him of his mother while they were working on a few chores and Geralt had listened in silence. Thinking of his own mother and how different the two sounded. Then again, his mother wasn't human. Of course they were different. And yet... He too sometimes felt hollow at the knowledge that he did not know where she was, what she was doing or... if she was even still alive.

He decided that perhaps, to settle the boy's mind, they would have to sneak into the village to take a look. It wasn't the best plan. But it was better then these horrible nightmares. So, once darkness had fallen, Geralt whistled and called his firemare Płotka. Then he softly woke Jaskier.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry if the last chapter was a bit chaotic. I'm not going to promise this one will be better. My head's a mess currently because i started a new job and i'm still moving stuff from my old to my new house. It's chaos all around. ;) Anyways, can't stop writing for these two so, enjoy the chaos.

Well... That was indeed quite the revelation. Jaskier felt almost light because of it. At least now he was absolutely certain that the demon didn't reply grunts at random but he actually understood what was being said.

"All this time i was worried i was just chatting nonsense to you! I'm so relieved. You know what Geralt? I can teach you. If you want to."

Jaskier offered it without really thinking about it. But if one would think about it, it would be clear that it would improve their communication. It would perhaps even enable them to have conversations. Actual, two sided conversations. But.. small steps. Learning a language wasn't easy for everyone. Some were naturals at it and their talent allowed them fluency within weeks. Others took years to master another language. Jaskier wasn't sure how long this was going to take, but it would be well worth it. Besides... it wasn't like he was pressed for time. There was a pause. Perhaps a hesitation and Jaskier held his breath.

"Hmm"

Came the response and the boy let out his breath relieved. It seemed his offer was accepted. He smiled brightly. Yes, this was going to be fun. His reward would be that he would be able to ask questions and perhaps get some more detailed answers then just the usual 'hmm'. He looked up in those amber eyes. They seemed to look at him with a light Jaskier couldn't really place. His smile fell. It was really tough to read a face you couldn't see. In all his time here, the demon had only taken off his mask once. And the result of that was slowly fading from Jaskier's shoulder. And yet... He wondered. The rest of his form looked human. Would his face look human too? If he could just see it once.. Maybe that would calm his wild mind with all kinds of images that could possibly exist underneath that mask. 

Hesitating Jaskier tried to reach for the mask. But as soon as the demon figured out what he was doing, he flinched away and growled. Loud and deep. A fair warning and a small example of his instinctive nature.

"Sorry! I'm sorry. I should have asked.."

Jaskier quickly pulled his hand back, not wanting to upset Geralt further. Although he couldn't hide the disappointment that he felt. At least he had a name to call the demon by. But Geralt right now was a faceless being, even in his dreams. Maybe one day... perhaps Geralt would trust him enough to show his face.

"I'm sorry"

Jaskier brought his hands to his lap. Fumbling with them while he tried to think of a way to lighten the mood. After the nightmare, the sobbing and now the distance he put between them, they could use the distraction. Then he perked up, thinking about how he was spending his days here. Sure there was nothing much wrong with it, but he could only do so much lounging around before he got thoroughly bored.

"I ehm... I wanted to ask... I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I am thankful that you're letting me stay, but... I'm actually quite bored. I mean i had chores to do by day back on the farm and... well... I'm just not used to sitting around doing nothing. I mean i loved it the first few days. But i was wondering if there is anything i can do? I don't mind making myself useful. I mean... I can't hunt or fish obviously but... ehm. I could... i could do other things."

Silence fell for a moment. It seemed the demon needed to process the question. But then he replied.

"Hmm"

And it was enough to tell Jaskier that the demon agreed.

* * *

A week went by with a surprising change. Instead of spending a part of the day in each other's company and a part separate, they now spend the entire day at least in each other's sight. Not always in close proximity, but enough to see and feel the other's presence and get used to it. Geralt taught him several things over the coarse of the week. How to keep the firepit clean and build a fire from scratch. How to sew clean and processed furs together. How to operate the old set of shears that Geralt had. They looked like old sheep shears. But they worked as scissors just as well. 

In exchange for the valuable lessons, Jaskier started to teach Geralt human words. Beginning at the very basics of the language. Which everyone would have to start at when learning a new language. The greetings first. Hello, goodbye, morning, afternoon, night... Longer words seemed hard on the demon and it took Jaskier a bit more coaxing to let him try. The words were still heavily accented but with soft encouragement, Jaskier witnessed as the demon embraced the foreign sounds better. Even if he appeared to be shy or disappointed at his own ability. He had no idea that he was actually learning pretty fast and Jaskier would do whatever it took to get him to see that. To get Geralt to know that he wasn't bad at this at all. 

Next came the naming of tools or items they used daily. Sometimes Geralt got frustrated and refused to try again. Jaskier would move on to another word and repeat that before he'd come back to the same word that troubled the demon, and repeated it until Geralt huffed and finally tried again. Each time Jaskier rewarded him with a smile. And he told Geralt he was doing great. It wasn't enough for a conversation just yet, but Jaskier had hope that they would be able to communicate on a better level in the future.

The only thing he didn't do after the start of that week, was reach for the mask again. It obviously had upset Geralt. And Jaskier didn't want to push. If the demon wasn't ready then Jaskier would have to wait until he was. He could do that. He was patient enough.

* * *

Near the end of the week, Jaskier was having a dream. Not a bad one for once. But it faded slowly from his consciousness as something tugged at him, bringing him back to the waking world. Jaskier let out a yawn, tired and confused.

"What's going on?" 

He mumbled while he rubbed his eyes. Geralt silently held his doublet out for him and motioned him to put on his shoes. Frowning Jaskier put them on with only silent questions in his eyes. Then Geralt swung a fur cloak around Jaskier's shoulders and motioned him to follow outside. Jaskier did, while he wondered what the demon was up to. He smiled when he saw Płotka the mare. Jaskier petted her velvet nose before the demon once again hoisted him on Płotka's back. But this time, he climbed on behind Jaskier and caged the boy in his arms while he held onto the manes and told Płotka to go.

"Where are we going?"

Jaskier asked still sleepy. Vaguely recognizing the path down as Płotka made her way towards the village.

"Geralt?"

Jaskier asked again, sitting a little further up as it slowly dawned on him that they were going down. He suspiciously eyed the masked figure behind him.

"You're not going to try and send me back again, are you?"

The demon huffed, near insult, and shook his head. Trying to form the right words.

"We... we see... Jaskier m-.. mother."

Jaskier perked up, eyes full of wonder and disbelief. And yet he gained a happy look. Happier then he had been in a while.

"You're doing this for me?"

"hmm"

came the reply. Jaskier was now more awake. He turned to the road ahead. Finally his questions would be answered. He would see if Nana was alright. But wait...

"But... We can't go into the village. They already tried to kill me last time. If they see you..."

The boy trailed off. Not really wanting to think about what could happen if they got caught. But the demon seemed confident that this trip would not be a repeat of last time. Well, the difference was that Geralt came along this time at least. Jaskier felt a little safer with that knowledge. Płotka stepped soft but firm and slightly quicker then the first time. Yet her heavy hooves were near silent. They made little to no noise as they traveled further down. Jaskier was nervous. But if they managed to stay hidden then perhaps they would be spared from the villagers who would do anything in their anger and fear. 

"We make sure they won't see us right?"

Jaskier asked, just to be sure. A soft hum told him that indeed that was the general idea. The mare didn't walk into the square this time. She took the little back passages behind the houses and Jaskier watched as she dimmed her flames to little candle flickers. In awe of her control Jaskier quickly pulled himself out of his daze and guided her to the farm where he used to live. There was only a little light coming from the windows. Soft and weak compared to the usual bright warmth that flooded the ground around the house. Płotka halted. But this time she did not lay down. Geralt let himself slide off her back and brought his clawed hands up to help Jaskier down. The boy let himself slide into the demon's grip as Geralt lifted him down from Płotka's back. 

Jaskier moved as soon as his feet hit the ground. A tight feeling in his chest and curiosity as well as concern prodding his mind. He made his way over to the window and cautiously looked inside. The once cozy looking room was dimly lit by a dying fire. His adoptive father sat by it, tired. With his head resting in his hands and his fingers laced in his grey turning hair. He looked like he had been crying, he looked sick, both with worry and possibly declining health. Jaskier was never really fond of his father and after what happened last time in the village he was angry with the man. But despite all that, seeing him like this, it hurt him. He turned his head to look at the rocking chair where Nana always sat after dinner. Working on knitting or sewing or cross stitching. She could make beautiful embroidery. But it took time and Jaskier never had the patience to learn. Now he wished he had, because the chair was empty and a hollow dread settled in the pit of his stomach. 

The demon came up behind him and took a look inside. Then he looked at Jaskier. His eyes stood soft, even from behind the mask. Was he worried? Jaskier looked back at him and then looked to another window. It was shut, but a thin stripe of light came from underneath the shutters. He moved towards it. Sensing his intent, the demon quietly opened one of the shutters for him and then the other. What he saw, shook Jaskier to the core. His mother laid in her bed. So pale and so weak. Her breath a mere shallow gasping, shadows lining her features where they shouldn't have been. She was suffering. Jaskier clasped a hand in front of his mouth. 

"no.. she's dying... isn't she?"

Jaskier whispered softly. Turning his head to the demon. Geralt nodded. Quiet and perhaps even sad. Jaskier turned back to the window.

"I have to let her see me. I have to talk to her. I have so much to say."

Jaskier felt his eyes burn with tears yet to cry and his lips quiver. There was a lump in his throat and he felt empty. Somehow he also felt this was his fault. Without a sound, the demon took Jaskier and picked him up. Softly setting him down on the windowsill, so Jaskier could slip inside. The boy didn't hesitate. Quietly he made his way over to the bed. He sat down next to his mother's weak form and took her hand, calling to her softly. Whispering in the hope she would hear and look at him.

"Nana? Nana please wake up. It's me."

She stirred softly. Her heavy lidded eyes fighting to open. She frowned as it took her a bit to focus on his face, but then she recognized him. 

"Dandelion?"

He smiled to her.

"Shh. Yes it's me. I'm alright Nana."

Tears gathered in her eyes as her other weak hand came up to clutch his.

"My boy... I feared... i thought you were done for... Why... How are you-... Oh my boy..."

Her voice even in whispers was on the edge of cracking. And Jaskier could see it caused her great effort and pain to speak.

"shh. Try not to push yourself, okay? I'm really fine, Nana. I don't know why he let me go. But... i went back after that night."

Fear seemed to light up in her eyes.

"Back to the demon? But my boy-"

"No Nana, listen. It's okay. I'm okay. The demon he... His name is Geralt. And he's.. He's not bad. Not at all. He lets me stay. He feeds me. Makes sure i'm okay. It's... He's really nice actually."

Jaskier smiled softly to her and caressed her hand with his own and her cheek with his other hand.

"I don't know why or what is wrong with him, but i know for certain that all those girls we kept sending up, he didn't want to hurt them. He doesn't want to hurt me. I don't know what happened to them, but from what i've seen i have this feeling. I can't shake it, it's..."

She lifted a cold hand to his cheek, caressing it softly.

"He is taking care of you?"

Jaskier could only nod. 

"He tries. He really tries. He can't speak our language, but i'm teaching him. He's so misunderstood. And i think... I think he's lonely."

"As long as he doesn't hurt you-"

"No he doesn't... He won't."

Movement from the corner of his eye drew Jaskier's attention. The demon gestured him a warning. The husband was coming. Jaskier quickly pressed a kiss to Nana's head.

"I have to go Nana. Before anyone finds us. Please get well."

His mother nodded and smiled at him.

"Be safe my boy. And... thank him... for me."

Jaskier bend over the bed and hugged her slim form softly. 

"I will. I love you, mother."

He quickly moved to the window where Geralt was waiting. He threw himself out of the window quick, just as the door opened. Geralt caught him and quietly set him down. He pulled the boy away to the side. Because they didn't have time to close the shutters. They both hid in the shadows of the side of the house. Jaskier could feel his heart thump in his throat as he watched how Nana's husband stuck his head outside, looked around and then closed the shutters. The boy let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. On one hand, he felt horrible. She was so sick and he was fairly certain it was because of what happened before. Even humans could die of a broken heart. Jaskier could only hope that his visit would help heal her. On the other hand, he was so relieved. Despite the state he found her in, he now knew for certain what happened to his mother. And in contrast to his nightmares, she was weak yes but she hadn't died. There was hope.


	10. Chapter 10

The trip down was calm. Płotka stepped slowly and yet covered more ground in each step then a horse would. She could be amazingly fast in every pace. Geralt sat behind the boy he had hoisted onto Płotka's back for a second time. But this time, he was coming with. Just to be sure nothing bad would happen again. Płotka had made it very clear that Jaskier was at risk in the village now. Because they truly believed his death was the only solution to dealing with their fear. Geralt blamed himself for that. They feared him. It was his fault. He couldn't communicate properly. He tried several times to stop them from making that insane ritual to please him. But no matter what he tried, it always made things worse. That girl they stoned to death was the most horrific proof of that. He couldn't even remember who cooked up this stupid ritual in the first place. Must have been from way back in the day when the village only contained a handful of houses and the road to other villages was less traveled and therefor not open for trade. That was even before the orchard by the village came into existence. 

Jaskier asked him at some point if this was another attempt to send him back. Which Geralt took offence to. He didn't know it at the time, but it had been a bad idea. And he did learn from his mistakes. He adapted. That's why he went with this time. To make sure the villagers wouldn't tear him apart in a desperate attempt to save their own skin. Humans... Such strange creatures. They did such odd and despicable things when in anger, or in fear. Geralt knew he may as well be guilty of it too. He hid. When afraid of his own actions, he hid himself behind mask and cloak and he had been doing so for days now. The only difference was that he wasn't hurting anyone by hiding. 

To really make it clear he didn't intend on leaving the boy, he searched for the right words. Some words he hadn't learned yet but he heard Jaskier say it. With the memory of the boy's voice in his head he tried to form the same words.

"We... we see... Jaskier m-.. mother."

Eww. Well, it would have to do. Jaskier would be able to understand it at least. He could explain his plan in detail in his own language, but that wouldn't help much. Jaskier seemed to understand very well indeed. He perked up, looking back with those bright blue orbs. Happiness radiating from him in sight and scent in a way Geralt had never seen or smelled before. It took him by surprise.

"You're doing this for me?"

The voice touched something inside him that made Geralt feel warm and feel the heat rise to his face at the same time. Jaskier looked like a ray of sunshine in this very moment. And all Geralt could do to answer was force out a soft and almost embarrassed,

"hmm"

The boy looked positively radiant. Yet like clouds appearing on a sunny day, his smile fell and before the demon could wonder why, the boy voiced his worries.

"But... We can't go into the village. They already tried to kill me last time. If they see you..."

Jaskier was right about that. The villagers were capable of unexpected things. There was no telling what they would do if they saw their 'tormentor' and 'tyrant'. They would either run screaming or try to tear him apart and burn the pieces. Humans had tried to kill him before. They send hunters and warriors, knights and barbarians, to kill him. Each time he was forced to fight for survival. And each time it was kill or be killed. He never liked the ease with which he turned into the monster they all thought and accused him to be. Dispatching his opponents was more often then not a bloody and horrific ending to a short battle. Only the best of the best stood long enough to have their faces engraved in his memories, and the physical evidence of their last stand carved into his flesh, marred and scarred. A reminder of his survival and his victories. Well... His kills. There was nothing victorious about winning a fight you didn't want to be in. No honor in being forced to retaliate to survive. 

But that was when they came to him. Now, going to them, Geralt knew very well what he was doing. He had a choice this time. And he didn't want to fight. So he would have to make sure they would not be seen. If no one knew they were there, then it would not come down to something bloody and violent as all the other battles he had fought before.

"We make sure they won't see us right?"

Jaskier's voice pulled Geralt from the depths of his mind. The kid was smart. And the demon nodded as a reply. That was indeed the plan. They reached the village shortly. And quietly, with dimmed light, Płotka stepped on to where Jaskier guided her. Towards a farm near the edge of the town. Bordering the fields of corn and grain and further down the road the orchard. 

* * *

Geralt moved off of Płotka's back first. Keeping his senses wide open to make sure they were safe. If they were spotted they had to make a quick exit. And Płotka seemed to understand this well. She kept on guard, tense and standing. Ready for the unexpected. Geralt reached out and let Jaskier down from Płotka's back. It was almost strange how easily the boy slid into his grasp and how well his smaller frame fitted between Geralt's hands. No doubt the boy was still growing. It would be different once he grew fully into a man. Even though that probably wouldn't take long. He was already showing signs. Nearing adulthood fast now. The demon guessed he must be about 16-17 years old. 

Jaskier quietly walked up to a window. Almost instantly his demeanor seemed to change. His expression filled with questions, worry, hurt and sadness. And briefly Geralt wondered why. He came up behind the boy and looked inside. He was standing close enough to scent the worry and churning of the boy's gut on his skin. Inside he saw a man sitting by the fireplace. He looked like he was beyond his best years. Humans withered so quickly. Then the boy turned to another window. One with closed panels. 

Geralt followed and quietly reached out, opening the shutters without a creak or a noise. The sight beyond this window was even sadder. The woman that laid in the bed within the room was near the end of her strength. She was not even of such old ages as humans would mostly become before passing. But she smelled of something deadly. Something Geralt had scented only once before. The scent of a broken heart. Tragically humans -despite many not believing so- could die of a broken heart. In fact this was a possible death for almost any creature with a heartbeat. It was always painful. And the one suffering would always wither away slowly bleeding spiritually from the shards stabbing one's soul. Poor woman. There simply was no cure.

"no.. she's dying... isn't she?"

Geralt could only nod. He wished it weren't so for Jaskier's sake. The boy seemed to care deeply for this woman, even if she gave him up. 

"I have to let her see me. I have to talk to her. I have so much to say."

Now that, he could do. Geralt quietly lifted Jaskier up again and put him in the window. Allowing him to sneak inside. He was light. Too light. Was he eating enough? Did Geralt feed him enough? The demon stayed where he was. On guard for the boy, for himself and his mare. Focused on the sounds outside and in, so no one could take them by surprise. While he was listening for other things, he caught flares of the conversations carried on in hushed whispers inside. The way Jaskier spoke of him... It made that warm feeling bubble up again, along with the fluttering that was now more present and stronger then ever before. Geralt pressed a hand against his stomach simply to try and get a hold on the feeling and push it down. Because if he didn't touch his stomach he feared the feeling would creep upwards to his lungs and sneak up out of his mouth into the air in any form of it's choosing. 

Something beside the voices drew his attention, and his senses told him that the man in the other room was preparing to go inside and probably head for bed. Geralt turned towards Jaskier and waved a warning sign, luckily the boy paid attention and noticed right away. He took a bit to say his goodbyes but then went straight for the window. Without even communicating, Geralt already knew the boy's intent. And when Jaskier let himself fall out of the window, the demon caught him silently and pulled him into the shadows. Płotka fortunately wasn't in sight either. The demon's dark cloak kept them protected and hidden in the shadows, so when the husband looked outside, he didn't spot a thing. It had been close, but it had been a good thing. 

* * *

The road back up the mountain had been traveled in silence. Jaskier seemed very tired, after all it had long since been dark and he had been shifting between emotions since they departed. Geralt could sense it. He let the boy lean against him and doze off on the slow swaying of Płotka's step, who easily carried the two back to the demon's home. _Their home._ That odd feeling hadn't gone away. It was only getting stronger. Sometimes it played up suddenly and the demon had to lay a hand on his stomach to tame the feeling back into a simmer. Whatever it was, the beast inside seemed to feel it too. Sometimes it didn't quite know how to respond, It paced up and down restlessly in it's mental cage, other times it purred and curled itself up to be blanketed by the same feeling.

When they arrived home again, Geralt lifted the half asleep boy from Płotka's back and brought him to bed. Removing his cloak and boots and his doublet before tucking him in with the new fur blanket the boy had proudly stitched himself. Jaskier stirred, tiredly opening his blue eyes.

"Thank you... I had hoped she was doing better, but you took me to see Nana, and i was able to tell her what i needed to. You are kind and good, Geralt..." A yawn interrupted. "..And i will try my best to repay you."

It sounded like the boy was trying to say more, but the rest turned into an incoherent mumble that faded into soft breathing as Jaskier fell asleep. Geralt hummed softly. A small smile tugging stubbornly at the corners of his mouth. He huffed softly and replied.

_"Śpij dobrze."_

* * *

Routine picked back up after that. With the exception that Geralt made sure around dinner time to get Jaskier some extra food. Lifting the boy, he had noticed the weight didn't match the physique of a healthy near-adult. And that while Jaskier was not lean or scrawny in the slightest but had a moderate frame. So he did what he could to make sure Jaskier would stay healthy. Jaskier kept teaching Geralt words. Naming foods they ate, clothing they wore and naming plants and other living things in their surroundings. Geralt had to restock their wood supply, so he took an axe with him and chopped down a single tree. One, which he taught Jaskier through gestures and few loose words that it was enough and yet, needed to be replaced. He let Jaskier help to plant two seeds of the same tree near the roots of the one he cut down. Protected by their predecessor to grow in it's place. If you took care of nature, then nature would take care of you. 

Geralt used the rest of the day to chop the tree into chunks and the chunks into logs and those into smaller logs. Jaskier helped gather the wood and bundle them in small piles with rope. He worked tirelessly and without complains, chatted away in his usual cheery demeanor and despite the noise of it, Geralt found it more relaxing and peaceful then any chore had been before. He rather enjoyed the company. The upside of the trip down was that Jaskier's nightmares had gotten a lot less. Sometimes he still dreamed about the village attacking him, he told Geralt that this morning. But other then that the nightmares were pretty much over. It brought a sense of relief to the demon, who unfortunately was still battling his own nightmares. He sometimes still dreamed of the first night he and Jaskier met. Guilt ridden and horrified he'd wake up. Jaskier never mentioned dreaming of that too. Maybe he didn't dare to say it, or perhaps (and this was what the demon hoped) he actually didn't dream or have nightmares of that night anymore. 

The bite had fully healed. Like predicted, it did scar a little. Present in only two white lines, paler then the surrounding skin. As evidence of his teeth sinking in. It was still a reminder and though Geralt still felt bad when he caught a glimpse of the lines peeking out of Jaskier's chemise or doublet, he was relieved they weren't ugly marred lines raised above the boy's own skin. Once he caught a glimpse of Jaskier's night shirt riding up. And the little scars on his hips would peek out at the demon. Five tiny crescent moons on each side. Like a tribal tattoo. Slightly darker then Jaskier's skin, unlike the bite, but yet again, not marred or raised. Just a mere change in color. 

Those were the signs that these nightmares were more then just phantom images. They were a reflection of the memories Geralt was torn over. On one hand, he wanted to forget what he had done. On the other, he couldn't allow himself to forget, because he needed to remember why it was so important to stay in control. And yet, that struggle, that battle of consciousness, it faded to the back of his mind when he was around Jaskier. If only his nightmares would do the same.

The seventh night after the nightly visit to the village, the nightmares struck again. Geralt was tossing and turning in his own bed. Images of red clawed hands and sounds of terrible growls plagued him. Flashes of terrified faces raced by while a soft voice called him. And it was growing louder.

"Geralt... Geralt?... Geralt!"

With a shock the demon startled awake. Captured by two blue eyes swirling with concern hovering over him and a soft hand on his shoulder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * "Sleep well"


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: To my regular comments: I see you! Love you. To new comments, silent readers and abo's: love you too! Stay safe out there all of you. My thoughts are with you.

The trip down had been both rewarding and exhausting to Jaskier. He was happy to have been able to talk to his Nana. Even though she was in a declining state. She was dying, there was no denying that. He was also pretty certain at this point that she wouldn't have long to live anymore, even after the relief of knowing he was okay. He felt sad about it, but he could make peace with it after having talked to her. It would have been so much worse if he hadn't been able to see her again.

The talk left him with a calm feeling. He knew that somehow, Nana had understood. She even told him: _thank him for me._ Which isn't something she would have said if she didn't understand that the demon was not a threat. Jaskier felt relieved and tired. This evening took a lot out of him emotionally and it was also rather late. So the entire way back, he drifted between sleep and wake. Soothed by the soft swaying on Płotka's back and the warmth of leaning against the demon's frame. Geralt let him slump against him like that. And on instinct, Jaskier found himself snuggling a bit closer. 

By the time they got back to the cave, _their home,_ Jaskier really felt he was on the edge of his dreams ready to tumble in and sleep. And yet he didn't want to give in. Geralt did so much for him, Jaskier could see that. He wanted Geralt to know it didn't go unnoticed or unappreciated. 

"Thank you... I had hoped she was doing better, but you took me to see Nana, and i was able to tell her what i needed to. You are kind and good, Geralt..." A yawn interrupted. "..And i will try my best to repay you."

Fighting sleep was a losing battle. Even before the last words tumbled from his lips, his eyes closed and he drifted off into sleep. 

* * *

After that they picked up their daily tasks again. Jaskier resumed teaching Geralt words, deciding that once he knew enough of them Jaskier would try and teach him sentences. Starting with small ones. 

Jaskier noticed that Geralt provided him more food then before. He didn't comment on it but he was grateful. After all he was still growing. And as a healthy human boy nearing adulthood, he'd eat what he could get. 

When their wood supply ran low, Geralt took him out to get more. The demon chopped down a tree with great force. Jaskier admired his strength. If he had to do it it would have taken him a lot more time. The demon also taught him to value his surroundings. Which to Jaskier came more natural then other humans. He had never been inconsiderate towards the landscape surrounding their village. Geralt gave him two seeds which he planted near the roots of the chopped down tree. It would protect them during their growth until they were large enough to fend for themselves. 

Geralt worked tirelessly to chop the tree down into wood piles which Jaskier helped bind together. The demon seemed to never tire and only took breaks to drink something. His strength and stamina was amazing to Jaskier, who could get tired from just looking at him swinging that axe over and over. At the end of the day it was still Jaskier who fell asleep first, tired from all the work they had done. 

* * *

Seven days after Jaskier said goodbye to Nana, something woke him at night. Surprisingly it wasn't one of his own nightmares. Who seemed to have slowly vanished and left him alone. Instead it was a shift of something and a low rumble. Something trashing in the dark. The fire was low and didn't bring much light. Jaskier rubbed his eyes and quickly turned to the fire to add some wood to it and make it brighter. It lit up the cave further and showed him the very thing that woke him.

Geralt was trashing around in his own bed. Because of the mask, Jaskier couldn't see his expressions but he heard some pained noises, frightened growls and angry huffs. He may not have been able to read minds, but Jaskier could tell a nightmare from a dream when he heard one. And this one sounded all wrong. 

Before his own nightmares disappeared, Geralt had often woken him up to spare him the worst of it and soothe him before letting him go back to sleep. It always helped and Jaskier was grateful for it. If he could do the same thing for Geralt now, he would. He just hoped the demon wouldn't lash out on instinct. 

Jaskier bend over him, softly shaking at Geralt's shoulder. Trying to call him and wake him, to bring him back from the clutches of his nightmares and into the waking world. 

"Geralt... Geralt?... Geralt!"

The demon didn't react at first. But on the third calling of his name those golden eyes shot open. Staring at him confused from behind the mask. The boy let out a relieved sigh. 

"You were having a bad dream. Are you alright?"

The demon sat up so quickly it startled Jaskier a bit and he lost his balance, landing on his butt with an 'oof'. Geralt looked around almost wildly before his eyes settled back on Jaskier. It didn't look like he was aware of the fact that he was awake yet. 

"Geralt?"

Jaskier reached out but the demon flinched and threw himself backwards, away from the touch. He pressed himself up against the wall, chest still heaving with quick and unregulated breaths. 

"It's okay! It's alright. It's me. It's just me."

Jaskier crawled onto his knees and scooted a little closer. His heart hammering away and aching with the sight of this fierce creature trying to get away from him. As if he was the threat. Geralt looked so helpless like this, vulnerable. And Jaskier wished he could take the fear and the pain away. The demon growled as Jaskier stubbornly reached out to him but once he closed a hand around one of Geralt's wrists, the demon finally seemed to relax and calm down.

"Jaskier?"

The boy showed his trademark smile and nodded. Still holding onto Geralt's wrist to let him know Jaskier was there. 

"You were dreaming. It woke me up. When i noticed it was coming from you i wanted to help. Are you okay?"

Geralt nodded slowly. The dream had been really bad. He was glad Jaskier had decided to wake him up. He reached out and let a hand rest on Jaskier's hand holding him.

" _Dziękuję Ci."_

He mumbled softly. His breathing slowed again, going back to normal. Jaskier smiled a little wider. Even though he couldn't understand much of Geralt's language, he had a feeling that he knew what these words meant. He had used them many times too. He nodded. 

"You did the same for me."

The demon's eyes seemed to light up. But if he smiled, Jaskier couldn't see it. After everything that happened and all this time they were now in each other's lives, Geralt was still hiding behind the mask. Jaskier still dreamed badly about their first meeting sometimes. He was of opinion that it was because he had never actually seen Geralt's face. The demon was kind and tried to care for him as good as he could. And he was sorry about the bad things that he did. It was pretty easy to forgive him because of that. But it would be even easier to stop dreaming of the bad things if he could disassociate them with the person in front of him. That mask was putting more then a barrier between them, Jaskier knew that. It probably had a purpose. But despite that he wanted to see Geralt's face so badly.

Jaskier sighed as he still sat before the demon. Looking into those bright golden eyes. Searching for something. He bit his lip and tried to let out the words as gently as he could. 

"I... I want to see you."

The demon seemed to stiffen. Jaskier knew he was taking a risk. There were cons and pros for both getting his wish and not getting his wish. Geralt said nothing. He sat very still. Contemplating his decision perhaps. Jaskier reached out carefully towards the edge of the mask. Geralt drew back a little. He seemed... unsure, tense, afraid? Jaskier still sat on his knees before the demon and he took a breath to steady himself, not pulling his hands away.

"Please..."

He asked softly. Those golden orbs behind the mask bore into his blue ones. Searching for any hint that this was not in earnest. That this would be a bad idea. Or that this would mess up everything building between them. But Jaskier sat patiently waiting, staring back with genuine curiosity and care in his eyes. So with the slightest nod, Geralt moved a little closer. Jaskier's heartbeat sped up. The demon was allowing him closer. Ever so gently, Jaskier reached up for the hood of the cloak with trembling fingers. He pushed the fabric back slowly. Inch by inch until it fell from the tips of Geralt's imposing horns. Jaskier partly wanted to let his fingertips slide over the roughened bony surface, but he resisted. That wasn't what he was doing. Instead he reached behind the demon's head. Soft padded fingertips finding the delicate leather straps that held the mask in place. 

Geralt sat very still. Almost like a statue. His shoulders had squared up in tension, and he kept his eyes trained on Jaskier's. The boy could feel him staring. Probably to brace himself for any reaction Jaskier may have. Jaskier pulled one strap gently. It slid out of the loop of the other and loosened. The boy gently took the edge of the mask between the fingers of one hand while he freed the straps all the way with the other. Softly he pulled, holding his breath as the mask started to come off. The leather wolf's mask made way for pale skin. Finally Geralt's face came into view as Jaskier laid the mask in the demon's lap without ever taking his eyes off of the face that was finally revealed. 

Jaskier's eyes widened a little in surprise. But they were not filled with fear or disgust or anything bad. Instead they filled with wonder. Geralt stared at him with uncertainty and worry lacing his face, but it did not diminish his looks. Jaskier reached out gently, his fingertips brushing Geralt's temple, sliding down his pale cheek to the sharp cut of his jaw. Geralt closed his eyes, still tense. As if he was waiting for something. Jaskier let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He cupped Geralt's face and gently brought it up a bit. In result Geralt opened up his eyes again. There was something vulnerable and fragile in them. But they were beautiful shining like two gold amber jewels. 

"There you are."

Jaskier smiled softly. And visibly Geralt's shoulders dropped, tension draining from his body. His mouth corners curled up a bit, and in that moment, they shared a soft smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Thank you


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh my lord i am so blessed to have Gloomydays to assist me. She's an angel <3 And keeps me from embarrassing myself.
> 
> ps. yes the last chapter was a bit shorter, so this one is a little longer as compensation.

* * *

Geralt may have seen blue orbs hovering above him, calling his name. But that happened in dreams sometimes too. And his head was still buzzing. He still believed he was trapped in that horrible nightmare. Even his senses were still dulled, though that could have to do with the fact that he forgot for a moment that he slept in full attire. 

"You were having a bad dream. Are you alright?"

Jaskier's voice did reach him, but to Geralt it sounded like he was under water. Still half in the claws of sleep and struggling to differentiate between sleep and wake. Between dreams and reality. He sat up quickly. Too quickly. The movement gave him a head rush. He had dreamed about being hunted. He had dreamed about the fights he was forced to put up because of the humans that came up here to kill him. The shadows around him were treacherous. They could hide the monsters that claimed they were hunters instead. He looked around wildly. Expecting someone to jump out from any angle at any moment. 

"Geralt?"

Jaskier's figure approached him. He recognized it but the edges were blurred. His vision still swimming from the sudden head rush. Something reached for him. A hand. In reflex, Geralt threw himself back and growled. Afraid of being hurt by the hand that stretched towards him.

"It's okay! It's alright. It's me. It's just me."

The more the voice spoke, the more clear it became. His vision slowly cut back into focus and settled on a mop of brown hair and concerned blue eyes settling on him. A smaller hand closed around his wrist. Gripping him, Not strong enough to hold him down, but firm enough to let him know the boy was there. The warmth seeping into his skin between them made him realize that... this wasn't a dream after all. And slowly with his senses sharpening again, Geralt felt he could breathe again. He calmed as he focused on the feeling of Jaskier's hand around his wrist. It was warm, soft and comforting. The blurred lines around Jaskier became sharp again and he could take in the details of his face, his brown hair messily laying atop his head and those blue eyes swirling.

"Jaskier?"

A blinding smile was his response. The boy didn't let go of him but seemed relieved he had woken. Jaskier had woken him... 

"You were dreaming. It woke me up. When i noticed it was coming from you i wanted to help. Are you okay?"

It stunned Geralt a little to be honest. He had done so much to help the boy. He figured he was still making up for his mistakes. Geralt had never expected to get anything back. Sure he had Jaskier alive and breathing. And with it came the lute playing, chatting and language lessons, but Geralt had never really thought of that as a gift or a reward of some kind. The language lessons were because they couldn't communicate otherwise. The rest... well maybe Jaskier just did that because he'd get bored otherwise. It wasn't a special effort for Geralt. The demon listened to him yes, but it wasn't something the boy did especially for him. This time however, Jaskier purposely chose to wake him. He chose to make an effort to help Geralt get rid of the nightmare. That was... something new. Something unexpected. He didn't really know how to respond to that. A thank you was the only thing that came to mind for now. But because of the sudden realization and the shock, Geralt forgot human language for a mere moment.

" _Dziękuję Ci."_

He only realized after he said it that it was in his own language. He quickly tried to search for the right words in Jaskier's language, but the latter already seemed to have caught on to what Geralt wanted to say. Because he responded with a smile.

"You did the same for me."

He did yes but... That didn't mean that it was expected of Jaskier to return the effort. He could have just... left it that way. It didn't take away that Jaskier made an effort to bridge the gap between them. Geralt was grateful for that. But he wondered how far that would go. Jaskier's smile seemed to fade a little. Their eyes were searching in the other's for something. Each their own questioning gaze while staring into the soul windows of the other person. Jaskier came to sit on his knees. Those blue eyes reaching into depths Geralt had never let anyone go to before.

"I... I want to see you."

The words were soft. Barely audible. But they made Geralt freeze all over. The demon knew very well what that meant. But honestly? He wasn't sure he could. He wasn't sure he was ready. It would break down another barrier between them. And despite being calmer and more comfortable around the boy, Geralt didn't want to hurt him. On the other hand, Jaskier had done him a service by helping him. He woke the demon from his nightmare. Perhaps... Maybe... If he really tried... 

Jaskier reached out to his mask. And Geralt almost kept still. Until he realized... What if Jaskier was put off by what was behind the mask? What if it scared or repulsed him? What if he hated what he saw? Geralt drew back in a reflex. Afraid of rejection and disgust and disappointment or disapproval. Jaskier stayed where he was. There was a strange kind of light in his eyes. Something equivalent of desperation perhaps? No, no that wasn't it... But it was something.. pleading? They stood so soft, so careful and yet hopeful. Geralt searched those eyes for anything. Any hint that may have proved him right to be weary. To pull away. But they held nothing of that sort. They were pure, sky blue, filled with hope and kindness and soft intent. 

"Please..."

The boy pleaded. Geralt searched one more time. Wanting to protect himself the best he could. But he was ultimately convinced that Jaskier wouldn't do anything to hurt him on purpose. On accident however... Geralt took a breath to steady himself and nodded slightly. Leaning forward. He was taking a big chance with this. His slow heartbeat steadily increasing out of pure nervousness when Jaskier reached out to the hood of his cloak. He felt the fabric slide over the roughened surface of his horns. He shuddered slightly, both anxious and tense. Trying to brace himself for the reaction he was going to get. The hood soon slipped off the tips and left his head exposed. The cold air surrounding his hair and horns felt strange after so long of denying them that freedom. Then the boy's fingers reached behind his head. Geralt's heart hammered faster and heavier when he felt the strap come undone. 

This was the moment of truth. He braced himself, feeling the leather slowly leave his face. Exposing him to those sky filled orbs that took in every detail of his appearance. They were too bright, too piercing. He almost couldn't bare looking at them. But he needed to see. He needed to brave the face that Jaskier was going to make once he saw what was hidden beneath the leather. Yet, when the mask landed in his lap, and Jaskier did not look away for a moment, Geralt felt breathless. The boy's eyes merely widened a bit. And where Geralt had expected to see negativity in any form, there was none of that. Just... wonder. Pure and unaltered wonder. Jaskier kept looking at him and slowly lifted a hand to his face. Geralt had to resist the strong urge to pull away again. Instead he stayed still. As still as he could. 

Warm and soft fingertips settled on his temple. It shocked him slightly. Sending a tingle to his very core. Jaskier touched him as if he were fragile. Like a piece of porcelain that could break if one handled it too roughly. No one had ever treated or touched him like that. Never in his life had someone handled him with such care as if he could bruise easily. Geralt couldn't help but let his eyes draw to a close as he focused on that feeling. The soft pads of Jaskier's fingers trailing from his temple to his cheek, to his jaw. Leaving a fiery warm trail in their wake. It made him tremble softly. Then he felt those fingers slide under his chin, forcing his head up a little bit. Unsure of what it meant he opened up his eyes and looked into the brightest smile he had ever seen like this.

"There you are."

Jaskier said softly. It caused that fluttering feeling to leap up in the demon's stomach again. And it tugged both his mouth corners up. They both shared a smile in a moment of silence. Jaskier had accepted him. Geralt realized it and it only strengthened the flutter inside. The boy had seen him, seen his face and confirmed it. An incredible burden seemed to fall off of Geralt's shoulders. And for the first time since forever, he felt lighter. Able to straighten his back instead of bending under the weight of his guilt, shame, sins and other negative things weighting him down. 

Jaskier searched his eyes and then they slid to the scar above his left eye. _Oh No..._ But Jaskier merely brought a hand up to it and softly caressed it with his fingers.

"Does it hurt?"

Geralt shook his head slowly. Mesmerized by Jaskier's calm curiosity. His care and his wonder at what he was seeing. It was... Otherworldly. Jaskier's eyes then shifted to his horns. After revealing himself without any serious reactions, Geralt felt a bit more confident that, despite his different appearance, he wasn't off-putting. Jaskier let the fingertips slide up towards Geralt's scalp where the base of his horns ran into his skull and the bone emerged from the skin. It felt warm and soft when Jaskier traced the base of the horns. Geralt sat very still. The base was the most sensitive, his horns less so but... they still had some feel in them. 

As Jaskier traced one of his two front horns, Geralt's eyes slid to a close. Leaning into the touch a little, with a slight shiver running up and down his spine as those fingertips caused friction against the bone material, dragging all the way up to the tip. Geralt was larger then Jaskier, so he bowed his head, leaning forward so Jaskier could reach more easily. He trusted the boy, more then he trusted himself. Jaskier had proven he wouldn't hurt Geralt in any way. And if Geralt was focusing on the feeling of Jaskier's fingertips then he wouldn't be able to be consumed by anything else.

Though when he bowed his head, Jaskier's scent drifted into his lungs again with every breath. With the mask gone, the scent was sharper. Whole. Sandalwood, Pine and Buttercups. Geralt felt the beast inside purr to the heady scent. And the only thing he could do was reply with his own low rumble. Something of an approval of sorts. 

Jaskier then reached the horn that stood out among the other three. The one that was broken and marred. Another battle to survive. One that had nearly killed him because he was taken by surprise. By not one, but two hunters. Mercenaries, hired to get rid of the worst. They nearly killed him and he nearly killed them. That one seemed more sensitive then the others. Because sometimes, when the memory or nightmare was bad enough, there was a phantom pain in a tip that was no longer there. Geralt held still as he felt Jaskier's fingers trace the ragged edges of the broken horn. Ever so careful as if the wound was fresh. He felt it in the base of his spine. That's how far the feeling wrecked into his body. He suspected Jaskier would ask about it, but instead when the boy pulled back, he said nothing. 

Sleep had left the both of them completely. So after a moment of silence, Jaskier suggested to start the day early. And all Geralt said was "hmm" But it was enough.

* * *

Several days now, Geralt had been without mask. It went a lot better then he had expected. Mostly that was because Jaskier didn't react like the demon thought he would. Or like any other human would. But then again, not a single other human could find themselves in this position or situation. Sometimes the scents were still a bit strong and he kept a bit more distance then. Jaskier understood this and respected it and gave Geralt the time he needed to adjust. Other times they were fine, in close proximity working on a chore. It went fine then. 

Spring had come to an end in the time that Jaskier was staying here. Summer had come and slowly the days were getting warmer. It was perfect weather to work outside. Though there was little to do. Most things outside had been done and it wasn't as if Geralt had a lot of other things to work on other then his home. He was working on cleaning pelts and treating them so he could use them for clothes when Jaskier came back from wandering off on his own. He did that sometimes and he never went far. The first time it made Geralt have somewhat mixed feelings. But slowly he accepted it as part of the routine. After all being cooped up with the two of them all hours of the day would be a bit much. He smiled as he held out a soft ball of white fluffy material. 

"Geralt! Look what i found. Cotton! There's some more up there, but if we can plant it somewhere and harvest it, we can make different clothes. Pelts will be warm in summer. I've seen some of the women use this. It's pretty easy once you know how."

Geralt wordlessly reached out a hand and Jaskier put the little ball of cotton in his hand. It was one of the things he had found somewhere further off at one point and tried to plant in that garden of his. There were many things that withered and died after he stopped taking care of it. This must have survived. 

"There's more up there. It looks like someone tried to grow more plants, but it's kind of over run."

"hmm. Tried."

Geralt parroted in thought as he gave the cotton back to Jaskier. The boy's eyes widened.

"You build it?"

The demon nodded. Jaskier seemed to frown and sat down beside him.

"uhm.. why... Why is it ruined like that?"

Geralt thought about it for a moment. Tilting his head while he searched for the right words.

"Hunters... saw... my home. They.. hmm.. attack"

Jaskier's eyes widened again. But in shock this time, not wonder.

"They attacked you? Because they found out where you live? Because of the garden?"

Geralt nodded again.

"Well that's just awful. To not even let a man grow his own food. Force him to be dependent on what people offer. No wonder things are the way they are. Is that the work of hunters? Did they ruin the garden?"

"hmm"

"I can't fathom why they would. Unless they were scared it made you better than them. They probably couldn't admit to themselves a demon can live as civilized as a human does."

"No demon."

Geralt bit back suddenly. Jaskier jumped a little but he stayed where he was. Geralt looked at him apologetically but Jaskier nodded.

"Sorry. That's what i was taught since i was young. I don't know what else to call your species. What... What are you exactly?"

Now there was a hard question. For centuries, demon or monster was the only word used for Geralt and his kind. It had been used so much he had forgotten what they were suppose to be called. 

"hmm _Obrońca..._ how to say... we... pro-protec.. keep..."

The demon gestured around him towards their surroundings. To the trees and the ground and the flora and fauna around their home.

"So... Sort of like guardians? Nature protectors. Keepers?"

Jaskier asked while he turned the ball of cotton over in his hands. The demon hummed. 

"But there isn't really a collective name? Like Humans."

"Hmm"

Jaskier tilted his head.

"Well... Maybe to be named something isn't really important. Sometimes i don't want to be labeled as 'human' either. I like being different. So... Maybe that's what we both are hmm? Different. That's good enough for me."

Geralt could only agree to that. 

"Could i... Can we build the garden back up? Do you think that could happen?"

The demon huffed. He wasn't sure. Signs of someone living here, no matter how remote this was, it always attracted some form of attention. Either hunters who so happened to stumble upon it would see it as a sign or... something else would prevent Geralt from taking care of it properly. Maybe because he also didn't know much about farming. Then it occurred to him, Jaskier grew up on a farm. With his help... maybe they could do this. It had been a long time since any humans came up the mountain as well. Geralt would still have to be careful and extra vigilant once the garden was build again. Just to be sure no one would surprise them. It would save them a lot of pain for the winter though. They would have much more then just the food offered by the villagers and the meat or fish that Geralt brought home. It could work.

Jaskier took a stick and started to draw on the ground. Geralt frowned but he watched as the boy explained his drawing.

"Look, i heard what you said and yes maybe the garden attracts unwanted attention. But then i was thinking, what if we hide it? Like the cave.. No one would even know it's there. We could plant bushes and things around the field to shield it from prying eyes. Then we could make our own garden in peace. What do you think?"

Stunned Geralt looked at the drawing on the ground. Why did he never think of that? It was such a simple solution and it made so much sense. He looked up at Jaskier with wide eyes, gaining a little misty eyed look when his mouth corners curled up and he nodded. It was a good plan. And he couldn't express how grateful he was.

"Alright then."

Jaskier said as he wiped out the drawing with his boot.

"We could start working on it tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Thank you  
> *Protector


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: bit of a long chapter again because you deserve it and because i didn't want to leave off where i left off at the last chapter too. And because i'm not allowed to make my chapters shorter anymore. xD

The smile they shared was something light and warm. It gave Jaskier the confidence that he could explore a bit further. Geralt showed his trust with the way he allowed Jaskier to simply get to know him better like that. He took Geralt in with his eyes. Catching every detail he hadn't been able to see before. There was a scar above his left eye, running so near it he must have been pretty close to losing his eye at some point. It tugged at Jaskier's heart. Feeling somewhat bad for the creature in front of him. There was more about him that looked like he had gone through some rough times. Jaskier raised a hand and caressed the marred patch of skin softly. Feeling how it was different from the rest of Geralt's face. 

"Does it hurt?"

He asked softly. He knew from hunters and warriors that sometimes passed through their village that scars could sometimes cause phantom pains. How often had he not spend his time in the market square ditching his chores to listen to the tales of a travelling stranger because it was more interesting then his boring old farm life? That seemed like such a long time ago now. But as a reply to his question, the demon shook his head softly. Jaskier felt himself sigh lightly with relief. Then he looked up. The white horns raising from Geralt's hair seemed to hide a similar story as the one from the scar above his eye. Because as three of them stood proud, pointing up in the air strongly as they should, one was broken and no longer reached up with a sharp tip. It wasn't a clean cut but ragged and torn. Marred edges with peaks and dips like horizontal lightning. That looked even more like it could have hurt with the worst pain a person could imagine. Jaskier could hardly imagine the force it would take to break off the strong bone material. And the fight that would have caused it to happen.

Geralt bowed his head to Jaskier to let him reach the horns more easily and Jaskier swore he felt his heart skip a beat at the gesture. Again it showed the trust the larger creature was putting in him. And Jaskier felt touched by it. So much so that it sped his heartbeat a little. He promised himself he'd reply in kind and through his actions show that he was grateful for the opportunity and thankful for Geralt's trust in him. 

He slid his fingertips over the roughened surface of the horns. It felt smoother then he had imagined, but it felt much like you'd expect bone to feel, except stronger. And warmer. Like Geralt's body head ran up all the way to the very tips. It made the boy wonder how sensitive the horns really were. If there was even warmth running through them then surely he'd be able to feel with them too. His fingers carefully slid over the surface. Exploring the horns one by one. Until finally the pads of his fingers touched the marred edge of the broken one. The surface had lost it's sharpness which indicated that it must have happened some time ago. Still, Jaskier guessed it must have hurt a lot back then. It raised a lot of questions on everything that had happened to Geralt before Jaskier was sacrificed to- no... Met him. He didn't want to think about what brought him here anymore. He was here now, so was Geralt. And they both tried hard to make it work. Such positive things shouldn't be sullied by bad memories. 

Yes the questions were many. But considering this thing happening between them was entirely new already, Jaskier didn't want to stress Geralt out more with a hundred questions. He could ask them later. The demon was already opening up one step at the time by trusting Jaskier with his appearance and identity. There was no need to rush to get to know him better. They had time. 

When Jaskier finally pulled back and suggested that -now sleep had fled from them both and did not plan to return for a while- they would start the day early, Geralt only hummed. But it felt familiar and it brought a smile to Jaskier's face. To him it was enough.

* * *

Several days went by after Geralt had finally revealed himself. Sometimes he still looked a bit conscious of the fact that he was now exposed. And sometimes he needed a little distance. Jaskier didn't really know why but he respected it and he didn't fuss about it each time Geralt backed away to create some space. It didn't happen often anyway. He once caught the demon stare at his reflection in a bucket of water before Jaskier came in and he quickly acted like he hadn't. It was endearing. And Jaskier never said a thing, nor betrayed that he had seen it. 

Slowly but surely Jaskier started to wander a bit more around their home. Feeling safe enough to be on his own a little while before going back. They had gone from not seeing each other during the day to spending full days together. And there was nothing wrong with that. Now they were trying to find a way in between. To have each do his own thing while still living together. Jaskier thought of it as a way to figure out what worked best when living together. They didn't have to be together every hour of the day. But spending no time together like in the beginning wasn't really desirable either. Jaskier found that if he was gone too long he started to feel a bit uneasy, wondering if maybe Geralt worried too he wouldn't come back. Of course he'd always come back. Where else could he go? Besides... He had grown used to living with the demon. Weird as it was considering the things that happened after they met, he felt much safer with Geralt then on his own. 

Today was such a day where Jaskier had wandered off a bit to explore and get more used to his surroundings so he could more easily find his way around. He was getting to know the woods and fields on this side of the mountain pretty well. He could find his way to the stream and back easily now. Just like the road to Płotka's favorite meadow. She also seemed to have a bit more ease now to do her own thing. Slowly allowing Jaskier to be on his own more instead of following him where he went or nuzzling him for attention. Which she still loved dearly and Jaskier loved to spoil her. She dropped by for a bit every day and then went off to do her own thing. Whatever it was that firemares did in their own time, Jaskier didn't know. She didn't have a herd. So running around with them wasn't a thing she regularly did. 

The first time she saw Geralt after Jaskier had taken the mask off of him, she seemed happier then usual. Perhaps she could sense some relief coming from Geralt. That's what Jaskier guessed when she whinnied and trotted up to Geralt happily, nuzzling him quite firmly before throwing her head over his shoulder and yanking him close to give him what was probably her equivalent of a hug. It had amazed Jaskier to see her that way. 

It took up a good portion of his thoughts and so he almost missed it when he walked by, but on an area behind the cave there was a small field that looked sad and withered yet with stubbornly hopeful plants sprouting. Jaskier looked up in wonder as he saw there was something that probably used to be a fence around it. But it was old, decayed and rotten. Falling apart on several places. Most plants on the patch of soil were dry and broken, some even scorched, or trampled. While a few surviving brown and green plants fought to thrive between their withered brethren. And if he looked close enough, he could detect three different sprouts as symbol of hope rising between the littered dead leaves and broken stems. On one of the surviving plants sprouted a little puff of white. Jaskier fought his way into the territory through a few thick and dry bushes to get to it. It appeared to be a cotton plant. And it was still growing. The cotton had been there for a bit already as he noticed it fell into his hand when he cupped it.

He turned the little ball over in thought and looked around. There in the corner of the field, a few more white puffs appeared between the brown. There was more growing up here. It looked like it had once been something akin to a garden... That gave him an idea. What if they could start growing their own food? Sure the villagers would keep offering things at the white stone circle, but to have to live with that for an entire year? That was difficult alone, never mind with the two of them. If they would grow their own food they would be able to fill up the shortage. Otherwise it would be a sober meal of just fish and meat in the winter. Not that Jaskier minded, Geralt always provided enough. But this would make life a little easier for them both. And with the responsibility of a garden, it would also bring more to do. 

Jaskier never actually thought he would miss having chores. But he simply wasn't a soul who could lazily lounge around all day. One day maybe. But not all day every day. That's why he had imagined that if he was going to be a Bard he wanted to travel and do more then just write songs and play at a random court. 

With this idea fresh in his mind he went back to look for Geralt. He found the demon sitting outside, working on the pelts that made up most of what he had for blankets, boots and clothing. The cloak he had was different material. And he had one cotton shirt. That much Jaskier knew. He didn't know where Geralt got them. He didn't feel the need to ask. Everything else the demon owned however were pelts or leather. Which would be warm in summer. 

"Geralt! Look what i found. Cotton! There's some more up there, but if we can plant it somewhere and harvest it, we can make different clothes. Pelts will be warm in summer. I've seen some of the women use this. It's pretty easy once you know how."

Jaskier held out the little ball of cotton he brought for Geralt to see. The demon wordlessly took it from his hands and inspected the little white fluff.

"There's more up there. It looks like someone tried to grow more plants, but it's kind of over run."

Jaskier mused.

"hmm. Tried."

Geralt replied in his usual deep voice. Wait... Was that a confirmation? Jaskier's eyes widened. So that was Geralt's doing?

"You build it?"

Jaskier asked while Geralt handed him back the cotton. The demon nodded. Well that explained why it looked man-made but not why it was so withered. 

"uhm.. why... Why is it ruined like that?"

He asked with pure curiosity. There could be a number of reasons and he wondered which one applied.

"Hunters... saw... my home. They.. hmm.. attack"

Geralt replied with few words, improper grammer and an accent. But Jaskier could tell proudly that the demon was improving. Considering it wasn't his native language he was already rather good with different words and meanings after such a short time. How long had they been practicing? Two weeks? Three? Maybe a month. Then again, Geralt understood the language so perhaps that's why speaking came easier. Plus he was usually listening to Jaskier talk about everything and nothing, which must have made it easier as well. Still... Jaskier felt proud. Until the meaning of the words settled in his mind. And his pride was gone. Replaced with a sad feeling and even a hint of bitterness and anger.

"They attacked you? Because they found out where you live? Because of the garden?"

Another nod to confirm it made Jaskier boil inside. He knew humans were despicable the moment his own village tried to kill him even after he returned from being used as a scapegoat for them the first time. They tried it a second time, only worse. But this really took the cake. Not just trying to kill someone, but destroy their property? Their way of living? Their tools for survival? That was low. That was beyond low even. That was cruel. 

"Well that's just awful. To not even let a man grow his own food. Force him to be dependent on what people offer. No wonder things are the way they are. Is that the work of hunters? Did they ruin the garden?"

"hmm"

"I can't fathom why they would. Unless they were scared it made you better than them. They probably couldn't admit to themselves a demon can live as civilized as a human does."

"No demon."

Jaskier jumped a little with the loud low snarl that left Geralt instantly upon the use. But looking at the demon he seemed just as startled by his response. He looked apologetic and worried, So Jaskier ensured him with a nod that he hadn't done anything wrong.

"Sorry. That's what i was taught since i was young. I don't know what else to call your species. What... What are you exactly?"

Might as well find out if there was a name to it. However Geralt didn't seem to have an answer for him. 

"hmm _Obrońca..._ how to say... we... pro-protec.. keep..."

The demon gestured around him towards their surroundings. To the trees and the ground and the flora and fauna around their home.

"So... Sort of like guardians? Nature protectors. Keepers?"

Jaskier fidgeted with the little cotton ball while he tried to figure out the exact meaning and if there was a collective name to call Geralt's species by. But it didn't seem there was any. 

"But there isn't really a collective name? Like Humans."

"Hmm"

Well that complicated things a bit. _Obrońca..._ It was a strange word. Jaskier vowed to himself he would try to use it if he remembered, but at any rate swore to himself he would never again call Geralt a demon out loud. Who needed labels anyway? Sometimes Jaskier wasn't happy to be categorized as 'human' either. Especially after what the rest of the villagers tried to do to him. He always knew he was different. This whole ordeal with Geralt only confirmed that it seemed. Well... At least they were different together then.

"Well... Maybe to be named something isn't really important. Sometimes i don't want to be labeled as 'human' either. I like being different. So... Maybe that's what we both are hmm? Different. That's good enough for me."

A soft and tender "hmm" followed. Jaskier took it as Geralt agreeing. And if the look on his face was anything to go by Jaskier swore he could detect a soft smile. He started to pluck the seeds from the little ball of cotton fluff while he sat down next to Geralt.

"Could i... Can we build the garden back up? Do you think that could happen?"

Geralt took a while to respond. Maybe he was hesitating because of what happened before. So Jaskier offered an alternative. He took a stick and drew his plans on the ground as he explained them.

"Look, i heard what you said and yes maybe the garden attracts unwanted attention. But then i was thinking, what if we hide it? Like the cave.. No one would even know it's there. We could plant bushes and things around the field to shield it from prying eyes. Then we could make our own garden in peace. What do you think?"

Geralt seemed to look at him with bafflement in his eyes. They misted over slightly. It took Jaskier by surprise. It.. did something to him. Like a string being plucked, it rippled in his heart as he watched the forebode of tears collect in Geralt's eyes. He felt overwhelmed with it. To deal with the feeling he cleared his throat and smiled.

"Alright then."

Jaskier said as he wiped out the drawing with his boot.

"We could start working on it tomorrow."

* * *

As it turned out, rebuilding that garden wasn't easy. It would be a lot of work to weed out all the dead plants and other weeds that had run amok in the fruitful dirt. The soil would never be the problem. Enough things were growing here as testament to that. But the problem had been sheer violence and force that had destroyed this place. 

They started together by tearing apart the old fences. Breaking down the rotten wood one part at the time, piling them up near the south side of the field. To build them up again, they would need to cut the poles and beams from trees. Geralt picked three of them, from different places in the woods so it wouldn't be too obvious. And Jaskier helped planting two sprouts for each tree they cut down. They were working on it for three whole days until they couldn't continue without a hammer and some nails.

Geralt had a hammer. Which looked old and hand made and more a work of art then an actual tool. The only thing they were missing were the nails. Jaskier offered to get them in another village. But the problem was... they had no coin to pay the blacksmith. Geralt could make them himself with iron from the mountain side furthest away from them, but it was a day's travel on foot. He would have to go on Płotka so it would only take him a few hours to get there. But then mining for the iron itself and making nails out of it would take time too. So even with Płotka's help he would be gone for a day or two.

Jaskier helped him to pack some food and drink, placed it in a satchel of his own making, (he had gotten rather good at working with furs and leather) and gave it to Geralt. He waved at them and watched them ride off until they were both out of sight. Jaskier promised himself he'd continue to work on the garden and start weeding out the dead and unwanted plants while Geralt was away. But to be completely honest, when he went to sleep that night and looked at the empty bed against the wall, he felt... hollow and lonely. And he had to keep telling himself it was only for two days, before he finally fell asleep. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Before anyone says it's short again. Do keep in mind that dialogue makes chapters seem longer because of the spacing. There's just about the same amount of text here. It just looks a bit shorter ;)

Geralt had been used to working hard all his life. To him century in, century out, it was all he did. But it surprised him greatly how enthusiastic and hard Jaskier could work as well. The boy was young but he worked like a horse and never complained about it. Even if he was tired. Geralt made sure he took a break from time to time, and Jaskier did the same. They offered each other drinks in between their hard work and made sure the other would never exhaust themselves or dehydrate or even forget to eat. They looked out for one another. It really was quite different then what Geralt was used to. This feeling of responsibility as well as being cared for by someone else... It was quite new. All this time he had been surviving on his own. You couldn't even really call it living. It was just... existing. But now, things had changed and with each day he felt more comfortable in this new routine and forgot a little more what life was like before Jaskier. 

Together they had pulled down the old fences, the rotten beams and poled and got rid of most of the wood they couldn't use anymore. Geralt had picked the best trees to use to replace all these materials and they had worked hard together to get all the things in place. The only thing they needed now were nails to put the fences together. The previous ones were unusable. Jaskier suggested getting some from the nearest blacksmith from another village, but Geralt felt uncomfortable sending the boy out on his own even if it was not the same village. He trusted Jaskier to be able to make due up here. Near the safety of their home. People didn't come here. Or hardly anyway. But rumors could have reached nearing villages. It was for Jaskier's own safety that he couldn't go on his own. Yet, Geralt could not go with him. His appearance alone would set people against him.

Besides that Geralt had no use of coin or things like that. So they had nothing to pay the blacksmith with. Pelts could be a good item to trade or sell but only nearing winter. And since summer had just begun, that wasn't a viable option. Geralt knew of a mine where he had gone to before to get iron he needed for certain things in his home. It was an old shaft abandoned by people a long time ago. If you were looking for gold and gems then yes it was logical people stopped using the mine. But it still had plenty of iron. Geralt could go and make some nails for the fence. He contemplated at first if he'd bring the boy or not. But the conditions on that side of the mountain were a lot harsher then on this side. Besides it wouldn't be safe. There were more wild animals, more human activity in surrounding areas. Geralt could keep himself hidden and safe in other ways. Or defend himself should it come down to it. But he worried that bringing Jaskier would put him in unnecessary danger. 

In the end he decided that going alone was the best option. If he'd take Płotka then at least the travel would take up less time. She was quite fast, even for her own species. It would save him precious hours he'd otherwise spend walking. And the sooner he was done there, the sooner he could come home. Especially now that there was someone waiting for him there.

Jaskier had prepared food for two days and given it to him in a satchel of his own making. It was beautiful with small neat stitching, a fur pouch with leather strap that fitted across Geralt's broad shoulder perfectly. Jaskier was getting rather good at it. Geralt also took some tools he would need and then waved as he rode off. He felt something tugging at his gut as Jaskier's image became smaller and smaller until it disappeared out of sight. Geralt readjusted his position on Płotka and told her to run. He had wanted to return as soon as possible before. But with this feeling pooling in his gut his desire to go home was even stronger. She seemed to feel something similar. As the pace she set up was hurling them through the landscape like a falling star. The flames around her hooves sparked with her speed. 

* * *

Once Geralt arrived at the mine it still looked as abandoned as it had the last time he was here. Still, he couldn't be sure. It had been years ago. The only thing that he could do to make sure was to check his surroundings first. He slid off of Płotka's back and made his way to the entrance. It was partially boarded off and there was a sign that said 'keep out' But it was old and rotten and the words were so faded that the only thing left remotely readable was: 'K' p'ut'. Which, if you repeated it often enough in your head really sounded like a foreign word for 'broken'. They had that right.

The mine itself still had plenty resources if you weren't looking for gold or things like that. Geralt had fortified a portion of it years ago. But he wondered how well that would still hold up. If he had to make sure the tunnels wouldn't collapse first it would only take more time. But if the tunnels collapsed on him he'd be in even more trouble. As it turned out, the tunnels were indeed unstable. And he lost a lot of time making sure it wouldn't collapse on his head as he dug for the iron. The first day was pretty much spend on all that. By the time Geralt felt too tired to work on it was already pitch black outside. He made up camp near the entrance, with Płotka laying beside him. Keeping him warm where he had no other source of warmth or light then the fire of her hooves. 

Even laying there against her, his thoughts ran off to the boy he left near his home. Jaskier would be fine. He kept telling himself. Even with this set back it wouldn't take long. He'd be back on the third day. Still this feeling of unease just wouldn't leave. And it troubled Geralt enough to keep him restless. 

* * *

The second day went much better. Geralt gathered enough iron to make all the nails they would need to build the fence around the field. And yet he gathered some more. Because he wasn't sure if they would need more for other things. He'd rather bring some extra then having to go back again so soon. The wind picked up outside. Creating an annoying eerie pitched howling through the tunnels. Geralt ignored it as he worked. Bad weather was nothing new. But then it rumbled. And energy started gathering in the air. Cackling through the clouds were flashes of light and rumbles of deep thunder. It echoed horribly in the mine. Geralt had to stop his work. Płotka had always been restless in stormy weather. Yet never to this degree. She was sensing something. Something that made her whinnie and snort in a way that warned Geralt of whatever she sensed. 

A loud bang of lightning seemed to strike at something close by and Płotka pranced wildly in response. Rumbling followed and yet it sounded like more then just the rolling of thunder. Geralt suddenly realized what was going on. He chased Płotka further inside quickly before the entrance was darkened by a large rock slide. Dust and pebbles were raining from the ceiling while the ground rattled and more rocks and boulders and large stones came down near the entrance. More and more until the whole entrance was blocked. Then the ceiling started to cave in too. Underneath the weight. It forced them both further into the tunnels. Whipping up dust left and right making it harder to see and breathe.

By the time the dust settled and the rocks had stopped falling, Geralt and Płotka were buried in the tunnels at least thirty feet in. Large heavy rocks were covering the entrance and the whole ceiling had become unstable because of the crumbling. They were trapped. Płotka was very uneasy. Being a creature of the open wild and the meadow, being trapped in narrow spaces was far from okay. Being as large as she was it was even worse. Her head was near the ceiling and she couldn't properly turn around because the space was almost too narrow for the length of her body. She stomped her feet restless, the little flames flaring up, acting on her emotions. Geralt quickly reached up to grab her head and calm her.

 _"Spokojnie, Płotka, już po wszystkim. już w porządku._ Shhh."

Geralt's low soothing voice seemed to calm her a little. But they would have to get out of here sooner rather then later. Because every minute they spend in this place was also a minute closer to having no clean air to breathe and also a minute longer of being kept in the same place, delaying the road home. Also with a landslide like this, there were people bound to come looking. Humans had a strange affinity for looking at the results of a disaster. They had a strange fascination with the horrible and bizarre. That's another reason why Geralt didn't understand the hostility towards his own kind. 

Geralt tried with all his might to go to the top of the pile and move one of the heavy rocks out of the way. The problem was in his form. In this form he was strong, but he didn't have all the strength and leverage he had when he was a beast. Those claws were far more powerful, and he could use his body weight then. To get them out he would have to become a beast again. But he hadn't been one since... Since he met Jaskier. And that was three almost four months ago now. It was the longest he had ever abstained of anything. And his fear was that once he gave into that again, he'd be right back where he started. Wavering in control, fighting over which form would reach the surface first and suppress the other. 

But right now it seemed like he had little choice. Getting out wasn't just important for him. But he would do anything to get Płotka out safely. He stepped back, bundling the iron and his things into makeshift saddlebags and the saddlebags he had put on Płotka before they left. He loaded everything on her, including his cloak and his medallion. Which felt odd when the weight was lost around his neck. As if the beast knew what was coming as soon as the necklace came off it roared up. Pain and heat pouring through his veins, bracing for the transformation he'd suffer through in mere moments. He managed to get his clothes in the saddlebags before he doubled over. A deep growl making its way out of him. Płotka sensing what was about to happen backed off as soon as she could. Stepping back further into the tunnels only lit with the fire dancing on her hooves. 

Geralt gritted his teeth. He never liked this part. The changing was always painful. Another remnant of something that used to be quite different in the old days he was told. He wouldn't know. He wasn't born in the old days. Although with his age you'd almost think he was. His body shuddered as bones snapped and realigned themselves. Muscles bending and twisting to accommodate different limbs. His spine curved and twisted forcing sharp bony tips out of his skin. Giving him a single row of spikes like a porcupine would have plenty on his back. Smaller then his horns but equally deadly. His skin grew covered in a white fur. As white as his hair, with streaks of grey here and there. It never looked like snow, but it looked like a creature that had aged with grace. Grey and white mixing in the same fur. It looked less ethereal and more earthly that way for sure.

His hands and feet twisted from claws into paws. Large and heavy. Almost as large as Płotka's very own hooves. His face twisted into a snarl. A wolf's head forming. Larger then his own head had ever been. The horns growing in size to match and yet the broken one never regained it's tip. It remained broken as it was the day it was damaged. Scars he had on his skin were less visible with the furs. But especially on his head and limbs there were visible scars if you looked close enough. From his lower back, not one but three tails spread. Twisting into the air for balance and movement control. Added strength and leverage too. From his back sprouted wings with the feathers in color to match his fur. The freedom of being formed into this beast made it growl and yawn in delight and comfort. It was incredibly hard to bring back the focus on the task at hand. 

Geralt rumbled and the pile of rocks shook as he pawed his way to the upper part of it and started to pounce on it with both front paws. Slowly, inch by inch it made the pile move and opened up a small part for him to get his paws in. Clawing at the opening he tried pushing the rock away. After several tries, he gained enough space and strength to send the rock down. Creating a bit more space to move. He threw his body weight against the pile. Making it rumble and shift. His sensitive hearing picked up the sound of stones falling on the outside because of the vibrations. He had to keep going. If they were lucky then in less then an hour they would be free.

* * *

Too much time had gone by to Geralt's liking. Even though his beast had a lot of energy to spare since it had been so long since it was able to get out, shoving rocks let his stamina steadily seep away like a leaking bucket. Finally, after hours of clawing and shoving and pushing his body against the rocks, there was an opening big enough to get through. And yet, he kept shoving. Kept pushing and clawing. Because it needed to be big enough for Płotka too. Finally, after several hours, the gap was big enough for them both to get through. It was still raining, but the thunder and lightning had faded. Leaving the world to the mercy of the after storm wetness. Summer showers that rained in a lukewarm temperature and smelled like hot sand. It made it harder to scent humans and detect sound. When finally Geralt pushed through, he was exhausted. Płotka followed outside and before Geralt understood what happened, she bolted. 

Płotka never bolted. Never abandoned him. Not in all the years he had formed this bond with her. She only bolted when something was very wrong. That wrong presented itself when Geralt felt a rope slip around one of his horns. Then one of his tails, a front paw, back paw. Ropes were being tossed at him from all sides. He growled and hissed and he attacked. Instantly set on self preservation. Humans found him. He didn't know how they knew he was here, but they took him by surprise. And he was weak from all the work he had done to get him and Płotka out of the mine. He could mow all he wanted with his paws. It even snatched some of the ropes and pulled apparent soldiers out of the bushes. But there were too many to fight in his weakened state. 

"Careful! Don't let it get away! Secure the ropes!"

They had a commander. Clad in black with a serious look on his face. Vaguely Geralt recognized him as a face he had seen before. But he couldn't recall the events from before. Maybe this was one of the hunters that had been able to get away from him. There weren't many. But there were some.

The demon struggled, his large animal form too difficult to twist into random positions to get out of the ropes. And his stamina too low to turn back into a more human-like form. How... How did they know he was here? How did they manage to get the drop on him? Płotka... Where did she run off too? Did she run to Jaskier? Fuck... Jaskier... He'd be all alone up there.

Geralt tried to push through his soreness and his exhaustion. But in the end, there were too many ropes, too many men and too much protest from his muscles. This was a fight he couldn't win. Not now... He had to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Calm down, Płotka. it's over already. It's alright now.


	15. Chapter 15

The first day alone was okay. Jaskier kept himself busy with weeding out the first half of the field. There were a lot of dead plants that needed to be pulled and Jaskier had to dig out some of the roots to get rid of them. It was slow progress but it kept his mind off of the fact that Geralt wasn't around and wouldn't be for at least a day, maybe a day and a half more. He broke off the hardened and dried out stems of plants that had withered, he gathered piles of small twigs, went back to look between Geralt's tools for something akin to a rake. In the end he couldn't find one so he went back to the field to clear out the piles of twigs and stems first before he'd be able to rake the dead leaves together. 

He had to stop a few times because his hands were aching. When he looked at them they were red from all the hard work. He had to cool them in the stream to ease the soreness in them a little. It was another thing he could put on his to do list. He had become rather crafty with the materials Geralt gathered for them. Leather and fur.. Maybe he could attempt to make some gloves to make the work easier. Or at least spare his aching hands a little so he wouldn't still feel his muscles protest when he plucked on his Lute in the evening. He could do that later though. 

By the time the sun was slowly setting, there were dark clouds rolling in, covering the usual bright and beautiful sunset with a looming threat of bad weather. A chill dropped, which after a hot day would mean a thunderstorm. Jaskier knew what the changes in the weather meant. On the farm they were very dependent on the weather. Jaskier had learned to read it well. He made his way inside and made sure the fire was a little larger then usual. Then it slowly started to pour. Soft taps of raindrops on soil echoed first. But then they grew louder and larger and within a few minutes, rain was coming down so hard and thick it looked like a curtain. Jaskier curled up in his fur cloak. It's softness comforting a little. He grabbed his Lute as usual and started playing to pass the time. Humming to himself.

It felt so different and hollow now that he was alone. As if playing just for the sake of playing was no longer enough. He liked it when he could play for Geralt. He knew the demon was listening. Sometimes -though it was very hard to see- Jaskier could -if he looked closely- spot Geralt's head moving a little, nodding to the rhythm of the piece Jaskier was strumming on his Lute. His mind drifted while he turned his head to the empty bed in the corner. Would Geralt be alright? Was he taking shelter somewhere from the horrible downpour? And Płotka too? She was a firemare. Water was the opposing element. Would she be alright? A little rain wouldn't be that bad but it was really coming down outside. 

Jaskier only realized after several minutes of staring at the empty bed and then several more of staring at the entrance that he had stopped playing. He sighed as he put the instrument down. It was dinner time. He should eat something. Except he didn't feel hungry at all. He knew Geralt would probably not agree with him not eating if he was here. The demon tried so hard to take good care of him. Jaskier had noticed that very well. In return he tried to do what he could to repay the demon. Even if he wasn't here now it wasn't good to suddenly let go of those principles. He pushed himself up, sauntering over to the pantry to pick the things he wanted to eat for dinner. Absentmindedly he let his fingers trace the carved shelves while he tried to think of something light to eat.

The first crack of thunder rolled in and it startled Jaskier who turned around instantly. It sounded so much louder up here. Thunder storms were never a problem in the valley. Even though the echoes made everything sound like it rolled by twice. It scared the animals more then it did the people. Jaskier had never been scared of thunder. He still couldn't say he was. But with how loud it sounded and the knowledge that he was alone pressing in his head made it a little different. He sighed and quickly fished one of the pears from a basket. They were getting softer. Usually the apples lasted longer and could be kept longer. His mother used to take the ones that would go bad first or the ones that weren't quite right for the market and make them into a lovely apple pie and the pears she turned into these soft boiled stew pears, drenched with sugar and cinnamon. Just thinking about it made his mouth water and his heart ache at the same time.

Another loud thunder rolled by. Jaskier walked to the entrance to see how bad it was. The weather was still raging. The rain still thick like a curtain of droplets. And lightning cracked through the sky every now and then with loud thunder to follow. If this would go on long enough Jaskier knew he was going to have trouble sleeping. 

* * *

The night was indeed restless and short. Even before the sun was up Jaskier was already up and about. It was still raining, but the lighting and thunder had gone. The rushing of water was now a soft drizzle. Tapping gently on the already soaked soil. The scent of fresh dirt rose from all around the cave. The tapestry of flowers had survived solely because of the protection of the trees. The colors seemed even more vibrant now that everything was darkened a bit by the wetness of the rain. Jaskier pulled his cloak around his shoulders. He wanted to see what the storm had done to the field they were working so hard on. 

Apart from puddles here and there it hadn't really done anything to the few surviving plants that were in the field thankfully. The only thing that gave a bit of a set back was that there were branches from the surrounding trees that had fallen due to the heavy rain. They littered the field and it would take more time to clean that up as well. Still... It would give him something to do until Geralt came back. Jaskier did his best after breakfast to bundle the branches together and drag them away to the side of the field. Mud soaking his boots and the light rain soaking his cloak. He didn't mind it though. He had a set of dry clothes to spare in the cave. And if he had to wait for the right weather it would take longer. These after storm rains could sometimes last the whole day. 

The day crawled by slowly. And in between the work and the break times Jaskier started to wonder what was taking Geralt so long. He had expected to see the other back by now. Maybe things didn't really go according to plan and it would take longer? Hour after hour went by. And despite working with his hands, worry kept Jaskier's mind occupied. Maybe this was all just unnecessary fretting on his part. Geralt was a strong creature. Surely he could handle himself just fine. What was he worrying about? But then again... Jaskier thought back on the night where he first saw Geralt's face. When he was allowed to touch and explore, map out Geralt's features, his face, jaw, cheeks, temples, his horns... Those beautiful white horns rising from equally white hair. But... one of them was broken. And when Jaskier stroked the ragged edges he felt a tug of pain knowing someone had deliberately tried to sever it from Geralt's head. There was no other explanation. 

On top of that, Jaskier knew Geralt had scars. He didn't know how many, he had just seen the one on his face and the ones peeking out of Geralt's clothing. But he knew there had to be more. The history of violence with humans was very clear in the legend the adults told to scare the children into never going up the mountain and always obeying the rules. The whole sacrifice ritual was a testament to how much people feared and hated Geralt's kind. Loathed even. All these negative emotions, strong enough to search for and kill. They really had no clue. Never took the chance and opportunity to meet one. To understand what was different from them. Instead they send mercenaries and hunters and cold blooded killers to slay a monster that didn't fit the criteria of the bedtime boogieman. 

The sunlight slowly slipped away behind the horizon. The rain had stopped finally after hours of lukewarm summer showers. And yet Jaskier couldn't really feel happy about it. The darker it got, the more he worried. He wondered what was taking so long that Geralt didn't come back within the time he expressed he needed. What if he rode off and wasn't coming back? What if after all he decided he couldn't live with Jaskier around? No... no that couldn't be true. Not with the way they slowly build their communication. Not with the way they got to know each other better slowly but surely. Then again... There was still so much about Geralt that Jaskier didn't know. What if his nature compelled him to be alone? Jaskier shook his head to himself. 

After dinner he paced up and down the entryway instead of playing his lute. He walked out from time to time to peer into the growing darkness to see if there was any sign of either Płotka or Geralt or hopefully both. But neither of them showed. Eventually Jaskier settled by the fire with his arms wrapped around his knees. Trying to tell himself it was probably fine and that he was worried for nothing. Maybe it would just take Geralt a little more time. Maybe he was forging the iron into nails on the spot there instead of doing it here. Gods he never should have suggested it. Or he should have thought of a way to build a fence without needing those damn nails. He should have tried to trade something for them in another village. It would have prevented this horrible feeling from clawing at the pit of his stomach. 

* * *

Jaskier didn't know when or how it happened, but he found himself asleep, clinging to his Lute when suddenly a sound woke him up and made him jolt straight up in shock. It sounded like hooves and a horse bristling and groaning, but not in a good way at all. The noises made the worst kind of impression. Whatever it was it sounded tired, upset, angry and terrified all at the same time. Jaskier didn't hesitate. He left his Lute where it was and ran outside only to jump away to barely avoid getting hit by a sparking hoof. Płotka was prancing and kicking and the fire around her hooves had turned into a hellish blue and sparked every time she stomped her hooves down. She trampled the ground like there was something under her trying to attack. The packs on her back were still barely hanging on.

"Płotka! Whoa Girl! whoa! Easy!"

Jaskier didn't understand what was happening. The way she was acting right now was something Jaskier had never seen her do. And on top of that, Geralt was missing. Płotka's eyes stood wild and glowing as blue as the fire around her hooves. Her ears laid flat against her head and her coat was rippling with shivers. Something was wrong. Something was horribly terrifyingly wrong. She stopped prancing and kicking but still restlessly moved from side to side as if standing still could kill her.

"What is it Płotka? What happened? Where is Geralt?"

She replied in a series of stressed whinnies, snorts and bristles and Jaskier wished to all the gods that he could understand what she was trying to tell him. He reached out and yanked on the straps that held the saddlebags together. The load fell on the ground with a hard thud. The iron spilling from the bags. But if they had the iron... why wasn't Geralt here? If they were on the way back, maybe something attacked them. Or someone. Then Jaskier opened another saddle bag and found his self made satchel and Geralt's clothes. His cloak, his medallion. It was all here. Jaskier's hands were shaking as he took the pile of clothes into his hands. What happened? Where was Geralt? And what state was he in? 

Jaskier quickly gathered the clothes in his own satchel, bundled the cloak up and hung the medallion around his neck for safe keeping. The weight felt odd and yet the chain wasn't cold. It felt oddly warm. Jaskier ran inside to grab easy food and wrapped it in a cloth which he also stuffed into his satchel. He didn't think about it, didn't hesitate. He went back outside and to the nearest tree stump he could find. Calling Płotka to him. She came quickly and he jumped onto her back.

"Where is he, Płotka? Where is Geralt? Take me to him."

And off she ran. Jaskier held onto her manes for dear life. Even when the flames from her hooves spread to her manes and blazed blue. It didn't hurt, it didn't burn, in fact it was cold. Jaskier would have wondered about it or been more worried about it if he wasn't so busy clinging to her to keep from being thrown off. Even in the dark he could see trees and fields and rocks zip by so fast it was almost like they were flying. And yet Jaskier couldn't enjoy the sensation. He couldn't stop thinking about what could have happened to Geralt. 

"Come on, Płotka. Take me to Geralt."

He encouraged her and the mare ran for her life, as well as possibly Geralt's. After a mere hour, they arrived at a place where it looked like a hurricane had blown through the landscape. There were signs of a rock slide, broken branches and destroyed bushes everywhere, blood... by the gods the blood... and pieces of fabric and ropes. Even a broken spear point. Płotka slipped in a muddy puddle and fell. Launching Jaskier off of her. Yet the pain and the forming bruises weren't felt as he rushed back to her side. She was exhausted and unable to get up for now. The flames drew back to her hooves and slowly colored red, then orange and then yellow again. 

"Shhh. Shh it's okay. It's okay. Rest. You did good Płotka. You did so good. Please just get your strength back."

Jaskier petted her neck while he talked to her. Speaking softly while he looked up and let his eyes take in their surroundings. The rock slide seemed to half block the entrance of what he guessed was a mine. It looked like someone had pushed their way through from the inside. Jaskier looked around on the ground. It looked like something struggled here while it was captured. Something big. There were pieces of ropes scattered that looked like they were cut apart. 

Jaskier followed the trail with his eyes. Staying with Płotka while he tried to figure out what happened here. Further down the destroyed path he could spot two deep grooves. Possibly a cart. Whatever it was that put up a fight here, they dragged it out of here. Was that Geralt? Was that the monster the villagers kept talking about? What if that was the demon they had talked about all along? What if they didn't even know he had two sides to him? And if he was forced to turn into a beast... Oh no... What if they were going to kill him? Jaskier bit his lip almost hard enough for it to bleed, looking from the trail to Płotka and back. He couldn't leave here alone like this. She was vulnerable like this. But if he didn't follow the trail now, maybe he wouldn't get to Geralt in time. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Truth be told i don't think anyone would disagree on me picking the bad guys as the bad guys, i mean... nobody likes them anyway. Right?

* * *

Despite being too tired to put up a good fight or to escape, Geralt couldn't passively wait to get captured. He tried to resist. By the gods he tried. He bit through his soreness and his exhaustion. Trying to swipe at the soldiers roping him in. He managed to snag a few and ropes snapped, branches broke and bushes were destroyed. He clawed at them knowing, feeling that he mauled some of them and injured them with his nails raking passed. But his life was on the line here. He couldn't feel sorry for trying to get out.

He kept it up until they started threatening him with weapons. Swords and spears were pointed at him. Some of them jabbed at him barely missing his large body. Others purposely stabbed him in places and drew blood. He growled and hissed and broke off one of the spears before he got stabbed with another. He whined and finally settled, too tired to keep this up. The ropes around him cut into his form. They burned as the soldiers used it to drag him to the place where they wanted him. A large caged cart. And despite the sheer size of it, the cage was still too small to allow Geralt to turn around once he was inside. He barely fitted. His wings were flat against his body because they'd hit the bars otherwise. And his spine and horns tapped the bars with every move. His tails he had to curl up tucked safe against his paws to keep them from spilling through the openings. He didn't trust the men would leave them alone if he allowed them to hang out. 

"You're not getting away from me this time beast."

The captain seemed rather pleased with himself. He had a claw mark on the left side of his face. Older, scarred tissue that told the tale of a fight that Geralt was trying hard to remember. 

"Sir. The firemare's gone. She took off. Too fast for us to catch."

The man scoffed. And grabbed the soldier by the neck, shaking him roughly. 

"Of course she's too fast you moron, she's a firemare! Secure this one. If she's without a herd she'll be back for her master. Plenty of time and opportunity to catch her then."

The captain pushed the soldier off who stammered a 'yes sir' before he went to the cart. Geralt growled and tossed his weight against the bars, nearly tipping the cart over in his anger. If this arrogant bastard thought he could lay a hand on Płotka, he was dead wrong. 

"Aww what's the matter? Not happy to see me again? And we parted on such good terms. You even gave me something to remember you by." 

The captain sneered as he traced a finger along the horrible scars on his face. He snickered.

"Too bad the old man wants you alive. I would love to kill you."

Geralt hissed and growled at the captain, then he had to brace himself as the cart started moving. Men were working on top of the cage to cover the whole thing with a piece of tarp. It cut off the sight. No longer allowing Geralt to see where they were taking him. The pain, the exhaustion, even if he had been able to see they would have overcome him one way or another. It let him slip into a light sleeping trance to recover some of the strength and energy he lost. 

* * *

The next thing that Geralt could detect were muddled voices. Slowly growing sharper and clearer as he came too. They hadn't pulled him out of the cage and his body ached with how small and cramped it was. It really only allowed for one position that he needed to hold up. 

"Captain of the Reavers. My men tell me good news. You've brought me a beast?"

The voice belonged to another man. No doubt about that. It was a little laced with old age. Accent and word choice betrayed as much. 

"Master Stregobor. I come baring gifts. It is like you said. I had the men stake out the mine for months after we discovered the fortifications. And as you said, the beast returned. We've managed to capture it."

The tarp was pulled away and Geralt growled with how the light hurt his eyes and blinded him for mere moments. He could tell he was inside somewhere. It looked a stronghold. Had to be the sad sight of Sodden. No other fortresses were near enough and none looked as bad as this one. The upkeep of this was legendary always the bare minimum to keep it a fort instead of a ruin. But it's looks and uses and fortification had deteriorated over time. Yet the inside of this keep was still laced with the finest tapestries, chandeliers, candlebra's, carpets and other luxurious items to draw the attention away from the crumbling sorry state of the building itself. 

"By the gods... It's magnificent."

"It's pretty fucking dangerous, is what that is. Why wouldn't you let me kill it?"

"Patience Boholt. This is the key to everything. I won't let your blood lust and thirst for revenge get in the way of our plans."

Geralt tilted his head. Boholt... the name sounded familiar. But he wasn't a captain when they fought. He was a mercenary send to kill Geralt and he barely escaped with his life. Yes... it was coming back to Geralt now. Sadly Boholt was the only survivor of that incident. The other four mercenaries he came with had all died at the jaws of the beast. It made the man bitter for sure. The other one however... That was someone unfamiliar. This.. Stregobor was not someone Geralt had encountered before. 

"Your plans. Not ours. You can fuck around with that thing all you like, but I just want to get paid and get my hands on this thing when you're done with it. We have a score to settle."

"Don't forget who you're talking to. You were a mess when i found you. Don't forget i'm the one who put you in this position. You owe it to me Boholt. I own you until that debt is repaid."

"You pray those petty experiments of yours won't fail then."

Plans... Experiments?... Whatever they were talking about, it was nothing good. Geralt had understood that much when he followed the conversation between his two captors. What they wanted from him, he didn't know. But he knew it was probably a terrible thing. A thing they were not allowed to get. Geralt tried once again to toss his weight against the bars. But whoever forged this cage had counted on an incredible force trying to break them. The steel would not bend. 

"Fuck. I knew i should have put the beast down!"

"Calm down. Your hostility will only make it worse."

"Are you sure that cage will hold?"

"It will."

The old man approached the cage. He was grey and the top of his head was void of hair. He was balding and his eyes no longer stood as bright as they would if he were younger. Despite that there was something stern and dangerous in his looks. Something that betrayed a desire for power and ambition. Geralt drew back as far as he could, which was really only a few inches. A low growl rumbled from deep within his chest and grew louder. He'd snap at the bars if this man didn't back off. But instead of being able to threaten him from his cage, Stregobor raised a hand with fine powder of it. The scent alone made Geralt drowsy. And then the man blew. And the dust flew into Geralt's eyes, ears and nose. He tried to shake his head. Pawing at his wolf's face to get the powder off. It smelled disgustingly sweet and it weakened him. Within moments after it got into his lungs, Geralt felt himself black out again. Slowly drifting off into subconsciousness. 

* * *

By the time he woke again he was no longer in the main hall. He suspected he was underneath the keep. Considering what thick walls surrounded him. And no windows to let in any sunlight. The only thing that lit up the cell he was in were torches placed on the wall. He no longer felt trapped and tried to stretch his wings carefully. They met no resistance. The cage was gone. But as he moved, heavy chains rattled with a deafening noise. It pierced his senses and he winched. They felt heavy around his paws and they stung. Whoever put him here obviously knew what strength he possessed. 

There were unpleasant scents clinging to the stones of this dungeon. Fear, pain, agony, rot, decaying corpses and blood. Old and new. The iron stench of it was drenched into the masonry around him. Without the mask to dull his senses it made him feel sick. And between all of that there was still the lingering smell of something disgustingly sweet. That powder the man threw... Geralt smelled it before. On a flower his mother had warned him about when he was young. Vermilion. White flowers with a blood red center. To a human, they were just pretty flowers. They smelled sweet and would do nothing more then scent the room. But to Geralt's own kind... they were sleep inducing and even poisonous. A small amounts wouldn't kill him. But it made him weak. The question was... how did Stregobor know about it? It was one of the best kept secrets of their kind. 

Geralt tugged at his chains again just to test them. He felt sore and he felt mud and dirt sticking to his fur. As well as dried blood, both his own and not his own. It stuck to his skin too and itched as it dried. 

"I see you're awake. Good. Then we can begin. I'm sorry to say you won't be turning back into your other self for... quite a while."

Stregobor walked through the cell followed by a handful of hooded figures in robes. They set up candles in a circle around Geralt from which that same sickly sweet scent rose. The more of it filled the air, the harder it was to breathe properly and to stay awake. Geralt hissed as the old man came closer. Something glinted in his hand and Geralt didn't need to look twice to know it was a knife. What the hell did he want? 

Next thing that went through him was a sharp pain between his shoulders. Geralt roared and tugged at the chains with his paws. His jaws weakly snapping at the man. The fucker cut off one of his spikes. Was that what he wanted? To torture? Or to harvest things some superstitious people believed to have healing properties? Fuck.. None of those tales were true. If they were Geralt would have known. Next to go were two feathers. One plucked from each wing. And with every jab of pain Geralt tried to resist and snap at the man. The problem was the scent of the Vermillion. It dulled him. Made him drowsy. And those hooded figures kept a grip on the chains, not allowing him much space to move and strike.

"Hmm... This one's damaged..."

Stregobor spoke as if he was reciting a journal entry while he pushed his fingers against the broken horn on Geralt's head. The demon hissed and janked his head away. He didn't get far. 

"Touchy hmm? Must still be sensitive. Interesting."

Geralt had no patience for this man's games. Whatever he wanted, it was nothing good. And it wouldn't be beneficial for Geralt. It would almost certainly endanger his life. That thought was confirmed with a sharp jab in his shoulder where Stregobor cut him so deep he was able to collect some blood. The beast snarled and snapped and tried to wiggle out of his restraints.

Somewhere deep down, it hurt more then just the physical. It was Geralt's mind telling him that he deserved this. _Every cut for every girl i killed._ His mind supplied him with acceptance and tolerance for the pain. Because he was a monster. _He takes like i have taken.._ To be honest, to be fair, this was nothing more then justice. Served after so many years. The scales finally tipping. _I deserve this, for what i did to Jaskier._ Even though the other tried so hard to bond with Geralt, it didn't take away that he first used him, then send him away, then kept him to himself. Jaskier never tried to leave, but if he had... Geralt was certain either the beast would have pulled tricks on him or he'd have done something, anything that was violent and possibly possessive in nature. Geralt whined softly at the thoughts plaguing him and slowly the scent of vermilion started to overwhelm his senses and pulled him under.

* * *

Nightmare after nightmare rolled into his sleep. Screaming, blood, terrified eyes and sobbing all mixed in a high pitched noise that hurt his head. Geralt jolted awake again. This time he wasn't just in chains. He was entirely pinned down on his side, his paws bound in a way that exposed his chest. How much time had passed he couldn't say. There was no way to tell. Although.. the candles were still burning. And Stregobor was busy near a table against the far wall with all kinds of jars and bottles that smelled more then foul. 

"Soon, I'll be the most powerful man. I will be... immortal."

The old man mumbled. Geralt laid very still not to betray his wakened state, but at the words, he stiffened. So that was what this was all about... He wanted to become immortal. And he'd kill Geralt to do it. Before Geralt could react, the door to the dungeon swung open and Boholt stepped inside.

"I told you i was not to be disturbed."

Stregobor sneered at him. Boholt simply huffed.

"This can't wait. members of the chapter are here."

"Very well... Make sure the intiates keep the candles lit and replace them in time. We cannot afford this beast to slip from our grasp now. i'm so close. Tomorrow is a new moon. Darkness for all. We'll do it then."

"You mean i get to-"

"Yes you fool. You can kill it. Just make sure you leave the heart for me."


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Don't hate me for the next character i will introduce. There's a story here. One i will elaborate on later.

Jaskier had never felt so horribly torn. He wanted to go after the tracks that lead to Geralt. But he simply could not leave Płotka to her fate. She was exhausted and her coat was covered in sweat and dirt. She had run to him from where Geralt was captured and carried him all the way back here. As if she was asking for help. As if she knew Jaskier could help her get the demon back. She had been so good and Jaskier promised her in soft whispers that he'd do so much to reward her after all this was over. He sat with her, praying it wouldn't rain again until she was fit enough to continue. That way the tracks wouldn't wash away and he still had a trail to follow. 

He sat with her until finally she was able to get up again. Shaking her coat to get most of the mud and dirt out. The flames around her hooves were normal again and it made Jaskier feel relieved that she was okay. He took an apple from his bag and fed it to her. To replenish some of her energy along with giving her a reward for having brought him here as fast as she could. They would have to slow down now. The tracks would ultimately lead to a human settlement and Jaskier was certain that it would not be safe for Płotka.

Firemares were a rare phenomenon after all. And one without a herd was ideal to catch and sell to the rich and powerful for a ridiculous price. They did that to unicorns and pegasi too. And they were even rarer. It was a testament of your wealth and power if you possessed one of these creatures. Humans just didn't get that these creatures were not for possessing. Płotka let him ride her and groom her because he befriended her. Jaskier fully believed this was the only way to bond with any of these creatures. Claiming ownership just didn't work. And it wouldn't tame them. They couldn't be tamed. Despite her affection Płotka would also always remain wild. And Jaskier wouldn't have it any other way.

"Let's go Płotka. We'll find Geralt. I'm sure of it."

Jaskier walked beside her this time. To spare her more exhaustion after the race she ran to get here. She hung her head, tired but eager to continue and walked beside him as he followed the tracks of the cart through the mud. Luckily it had rained before and the roads were muddy and wet. Which left a deeper imprint then a wagon would leave on dry ground. It took them on backroads passed three different villages. However had taken Geralt didn't want it to be known that they captured a beast or demon or... whatever Geralt was. But eventually they came to a settlement where the tracks led inwards. Into the handful of scattered houses and muddy streets, towards a structure in the distance that loomed up like a sad and quite frankly, scary sight.

The keep (for that is what Jaskier guessed it to be) was falling apart. Stones barely clinging together by the grace of some fine masonry that had put the structure together centuries ago. Some of the parts were newer, less miserable then the main part of the keep. They were probably added later as expansions to the fort. Jaskier patted Płotka on her neck and she leaned down to allow him to pet her nose.

"Looks like it's just me from here Płotka. You should stay out of sight and rest some more. Here."

He gave her another apple from his bag and she pushed her nose against him, huffing in protest.

"I know. But you can't come with. You're not at full strength and i don't know what these people will do when they see you. It's not safe."

She bumped him again and he petted her nose softly.

"I promise i'll be careful. You take care too. And be safe. Okay?"

She snorted, nodding her head and took the apple from him. With a slow trot she paced off further into the trees and bushes. Leaving none but heavy hoof imprints behind. The dirt didn't scorch because it was wet. Which made Jaskier feel a little better. It would be harder to tell there was a firemare close by then. He himself walked into the opposite direction towards the settlement. Feeling oddly uncomfortable to be around regular people again. He felt like an outsider. And that wasn't just because of his mismatched clothes.

Although he had his usual breeches, chemise shirt and doublet on, he was wearing the soft fur boots Geralt made him and a fur cloak. With the leather satchel hanging from a shoulder. Jaskier felt eyes of passerby's linger on him. And he had a hard time figuring out whether this was because of his clothes or because he was a new face in town and people had never seen him before. He followed the tracks all the way to the town's market square where they were lost in the dozens of cart imprints and heavy foot prints, hoof prints and other prints that made it impossible to tell where the cart went next. Although.. Jaskier had an inkling of an idea where that cart may have gone to.

He looked around for a crowd and found light and noise slipping from lit up windows to the right of the square. It had to be a tavern. Jaskier's village wasn't big enough for a tavern, but the town hall served as Tavern, Inn and town hall all at once. He was familiar with drinking crowds, off tune singing and laughter. He slipped inside and looked around. Maybe he could ask the barman about the keep. They were usually the type to deal in travelers information. So he walked up to the bar.

"Excuse me. Sir?"

"Yeah? Oi... Aren't you a little young to drink?"

"Not looking to drink, sir. I'm a little lost i'm afraid. Could you tell me where i am?"

"Lost? By your lonesome? Have ye no parents boy? This is Sodden you're in."

"My Nana is ill Sir. I have a guardian who was with me but we lost each other in the storm. I believe he may have come this way."

"No other strangers have come through Sodden, boy. 'M sorry to say but ye might have come in the wrong direction."

"Then what about a cart? It would have been accompanied by something like a dozen men."

"Ne'er seen such a sight. Sorry."

"Are you sure? They could have gone to the keep."

The barman's eyes darkened and he leaned in close. Jaskier frowned and wrinkled his nose at the strong odor of sweat and beer on the man but he stayed where he was.

"If that's where they took yer friend. You best forget 'bout them laddie. No one returns from Sodden Keep alive or sane. The devil lives there. Now off with ye. Such talk scares off my patrons."

Jaskier's eyes widened at the mention of a devil and the dangers of Sodden keep. But if that was where Geralt was, he had no choice. He had to go there. Just nodding he thanked the man for his time. His face unreadable. He made his way outside in a small daze. The devil... what could possibly scare these people more then a demon? Maybe it was another one of those creatures Geralt was too. Maybe another one took Geralt for some reason. Or maybe it was just a human playing the monster to keep everyone at bay. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. Jaskier would have to get into the keep.

A hand on his shoulder startled him and he suddenly turned around. So quick he almost tripped over his own feet. He would have landed in the mud if the same hand hadn't grabbed him. 

"Careful boy. I heard you talk in there. About the cart that came through here?"

Jaskier perked up.

"You know something about that?"

The stranger nodded and let Jaskier stand on his own two feet again.

"Yeah. They took it to SoddenHill Keep."

The news wasn't terribly surprising. But having confirmation made Jaskier's heart beat faster. He was a step closer to Geralt now.

"Then that's where i have to go."

The stranger shook his head. 

"There's no way you'll be able to get into the keep. It's heavily guarded despite it's appearance. And what the tavern owner said is true. Not a single person has left the keep sane or alive. Even the soldiers seem mind controlled somehow."

"That may be. But you don't understand. I have to get into the keep. My friend is there. I have to get him out."

"Friend huh? Is this friend really worth risking your life for?"

Jaskier bit his lip. He had to be honest, from what he experienced and heard, Geralt had done some terrible things. But he did everything he could to make up for it. Jaskier simply couldn't hold a grudge against him for all that he had done. Geralt was trying so hard to redeem himself. And in the end, he kind of saved Jaskier. So was it worth it? Yes. He believed it to be worth his life.

"He saved me. It's my turn to save him. I owe it to him."

"So that's what this is? A debt?"

"No. It's more then that. I... He... He doesn't deserve this. Any of this. He tries so hard and... I don't want him to suffer for it."

The stranger was quiet for a moment and sighed. But then he nodded.

"Alright. I will help you. I can get you into the keep. But we have to move quickly. Your friend is in danger."

* * *

It took them less then an hour to get to the keep and down to one of the unprotected parts of the base of the keep. There were a series of underground tunnels connecting to the keep itself, but it was a maze. Half of them were blocked by debris and caved in. The other half was unstable and about ready to collapse and cave in on your head if you weren't careful. The stranger lead Jaskier towards the entrance of that maze and knelt down in the opening of the entrance to grab something from his own bag. It was a bottle filled with fireflies. He shook it softly and they started to glow bright enough to mimic the light of a dim torch. Jaskier tilted his head with a questioning look. The stranger showed him the bottle.

"Much safer then torches. There are flammable traps in these tunnels. Stay low and follow me."

Jaskier nodded and climbed in after the stranger. His heartbeat was rushing in his hears and he was too focused on what they were doing to remember that he had never actually introduced himself or asked for a name. They were walking in total darkness with only the bottle of fireflies to light the way for a while when the Stranger spoke up again.

"So... now that we're alone, i have to ask. How the hell did you become friends with an Obrońca Lasu?"

Jaskier looked up confused.

"A what now?"

Obrońca... He had heard Geralt use that word before when he tried to describe to Jaskier what he was. Was that the collective name all along? Maybe Geralt had forgotten. 

"Obrońca Lasu. You know... Old Gods? Nature spirits. Earth guardians. Or as some ignorant people like to call them: Demons."

"They are not demons."

Jaskier found himself snapping quick and harsh and he nearly slapped a hand for his mouth when the stranger stopped and turned around. Looking him in the eyes with a strange light playing in them. (and no that were not the fireflies)

"No they are not."

Jaskier let out a small breath of relief before they continued walking.

"You didn't answer my question. How did you befriend this one?"

Jaskier squinted his eyes at the question and the stranger. Something was weird about this.

"How do you know that's what he is?"

"Because i felt it when i watched the cart roll by. I followed them to the keep and it revealed a Wolf Obrońca Lasu. Those are rare. Especially the white ones are extremely rare. Which is why i know for certain that he's in danger."

"You keep saying that. But.. why? What does that mean? What's going to happen to him?"

The stranger stopped again and turned around.

"Full moon may have no effect on them, but a new moon certainly does. Tomorrow is a New moon. He'll be at the height of his power. Which is when the master of the keep, Stregobor, will cut out his heart in a bloody ritual and perform something called the immortality hex. He'll kill your friend to become a god himself."

Jaskier's eyes widened so much they threatened to pop out of his head. He could have guessed people would try to kill Geralt in their ignorance and their fear. But this was a whole different level of danger and evil. To cut out his heart to become him! This was too much. He needed to get Geralt out of there as soon as possible!

"No! I have to get to him. I have to- Wait... if you know all this. Why didn't you get him out?"

"I can't. I can't go near him. He'll try to kill me before he's free. It's in his nature."

"Does that mean... You... Are you one of them?"

"I... No. But it's more complicated then that... Come. I'll explain later. We don't have time."

They made their way through the tunnels faster then before until they came to an underground section where the rest of the road was blocked after there was a ladder up. 

"This is where it gets tricky. We need to get through the hallway of this part of the keep to get to the dungeons. It's guarded. I will try to draw the guards away. You need to go to the end of the hallway, down the stairs and to the left. Then when you can't go any lower, just keep going straight. You'll find the cell he's in. But i have to warn you, they kept him in beast form. It will effect his behavior."

Jaskier nodded but before the stranger climbed the stairs he grabbed him by the sleeve of his black tunic.

"oh wait! You haven't told me your name. I'm Jaskier."

"Cahir. Hurry Jaskier. He's running out of time."

Cahir climbed up and entered the hallway. Immediately Jaskier could hear guards shouting. He counted to three and then hoisted himself into the hallway as well. It was utter chaos. There were a few guards already dead and Cahir was fighting a handful in the narrow corridor. Jaskier made a dash towards the end of the hallway. Finding a spiral staircase going down and he took it. Then he turned left and walked down a path that seemed like a slope to an underground part of the keep. Then it evened out. The deepest part. Jaskier kept going, his fast walking turned into a run and he sprinted towards the end of the hall. He didn't stop. Didn't wait. 

There were two guards stationed near the door and they yelled at him to stop. They drew there weapons and prepared to intercept him. But Jaskier couldn't stop. He was so close he could feel it. Geralt was there. Behind that large door. Jaskier gave it his all when he threw himself at the first guard and knocked him over. He yanked a set of heavy keys from the guard's belt and struggled against the second who tried to get a hold on him from behind. Jaskier turned around and swung. The key set jangling and connecting to the guard's face. It knocked him out cold. The first one tried to get up again and stop Jaskier but the boy was faster. He smacked the keys against the guard's head too. It drew some blood that splattered on Jaskier's face. All but ignored and forgotten in the heat of the moment. Jaskier fumbled with the heavy keys until he found the key that fit the door. He pushed and pushed, his full weight slowly opening the door. Too slow, faster. Geralt... Geralt...

"Geralt!"

Jaskier finally stumbled inside only to be frozen on the spot by what he saw. It horrified him. Not the form, but the state it was in. He witnessed this great white and grey beast in all it's glory, laying chained and broken and bloodied on the floor. He was magnificent, but hurt so badly. Jaskier had never seen anything like it.

A large white wolf, with four horns raising from his head, one of which was broken. The same one that was broken on Geralt's head. The white fur was white as his hair was in human form. But what was new were the impressive set of wings. And the tails! Jaskier counted three of them, half draped over his paws. And on his back, along the length of his spine, there were spikes, like a porcupine's or a hedgehog's. The paws were almost as large as Jaskier's head. By the gods the beast was huge. That's when Jaskier understood where the word 'Demon' came from, and why he'd never use that word again. 

"Geralt?"

The beast did not respond. It seemed... asleep? There was an incredible sweet scent hanging in the air. Jaskier looked around as there were candles burning in a circle around the beast. The scent seemed to rise from them. They were so low they must have been burning for hours. _They kept him as beast..._ Cahir's words echoed in Jaskier's ear. So.. either these candles made him sleep, or unable to turn back into a man. Or both. Jaskier quickly got to work. Putting out each and every candle. Kicking them aside and away from the beast. Once the last candle was out, Jaskier searched for the key to the chains on the ring of keys he had. The jangling made the beast stir. When finally Jaskier found it he went to work without looking up. Only when the last chain fell from Geralt's hurt limbs, he looked up into bright golden eyes staring him down with a murderous glint in them. And a low threatening growl started to rise from the beast's throat. So loud and so deep that the ground started to rumble...


	18. Chapter 18

Darkness was all there was. It surrounded him. Everywhere. Invaded all his senses. A deep nothingness that just produced no sound, no smell, no sight, no feeling... nothing. Until it did. And this darkness was invaded by a scent so sweet it was sickening. Soft sounds of soldiers scrambling in a panic far away and far off fighting joined in. Pain followed. Ache and soreness in fresh wounds and muscle cramps. Then slowly, light crept back into his eyes. Geralt squinted and then it hit him. He was waking up. They hadn't replaced the candles. Or.. they had gone out. The smell of sulfur filled the room. And blood. Geralt smelled blood. Not his own. It triggered something. An intense desire to draw more of it. An anger so deep and so pure he felt it in every fiber of his broken body. The sweet scent seemed to drift away. And then the clang of chains hitting the floor. Someone was releasing him. 

It was time. Either time to die, or time to kill. This was the predator way. Eat or be eaten. And the beast felt a want at the first one of the two. He could definitely cling his teeth into something. In his captors for one. The scent of blood drove him further. Oh they would be sorry for keeping him here. They would be so sorry. No... In the end they wouldn't even be that. They would just be dead. _Kill them all for what they've done._ The beast demanded. But wait... wasn't he forgetting something? Why did he get the feeling that there was this important thing he was forgetting? His head was fuzzy and the pain drove him into a defensive and pissed off attitude. Why couldn't he remember?

Then it hit him. Stregobor, The new moon, Boholt, The immortality hex. They were going to kill him. Stregobor wanted to become a god. Everything he did. All the torture he put Geralt through in the last few hours was because of that immortality hex. He was preparing for it. Was it time already? No... wait... the New moon was not now. And there was fighting in the halls. Something.. familiar moved between the soldiers. Cutting them down. Something... like him. Geralt opened his eyes. Territory be damned, injuries be damned. No one had a right to kill these soldiers. Only Geralt. He was the one they grieved. He was the one they hurt. He was the one they tortured. By all rights he was allowed to repay that in kind.

Then he felt the last of his chains fall and his eyes flew open. Whatever fool just set him free would pay the price for it. He may still be weak because of the candles, but he'd be damned before he let this opportunity slip. The beast wouldn't allow it. And yet... this scent. It was stronger then the blood, stronger then the Vermillion. This scent of Sandalwood, Pine and Buttercups... what was it? Where had he smelled it before? Pain seeped in with every move, dulling the memory. Overshadowing the fact that he needed to remember. Geralt snarled and stared at two blue orbs that stared back at him. Oddly enough they only held wonder and concern. And were surrounded by red droplets. Covering skin like paint on a canvas. The iron scent of blood, it triggered a low and guttural growl. So deep the ground rumbled.

The world seemed to shift into focus all of a sudden. Zooming in on the blue eyes gazing at him. He snarled but something inside him tugged his attention away. _Not him.._ It told him. _But why?_ Geralt turned his head when the noise came closer. His head jerked to the long hall stretching out from his cell. Soldiers were rushing down the stairs along with hounds and then someone came into view. Stregobor, followed closely by Boholt. It triggered the beast and it took off. Though it nearly tripped over his own feet he managed to reach the first soldiers and with a powerful swipe of his claw he broke two of them. Smashing bones against the walls, necks broken on impact. The third fell to the floor bloodied as the only thing that raked him -or raked through him- were the claws at the end of Geralt's paws. The beast turned his head and snapped. His powerful jaws snapping shut on a soldier, biting down with a sickening crunch. He hissed and swiped a wing, cutting down a group of soldiers in front of him. 

"The beast must not escape!"

Stregobor roared above all the noise and withdrew back up the steps. Boholt however grinned and unsheathed his sword. A large beast sword. Made especially for cutting down large predators and monsters. It wouldn't help him. Still the man thought he had a chance. And he mocked Geralt with his arrogance and confidence.

"I will cut you to pieces Beast. All he needs is your heart. But the rest of you, is mine."

He charged, but Geralt was faster. The beast leaped and missed the first swing of the beast sword. Landing so close to Boholt that he could feel the man's stinking breath. He snapped his jaws, missing Boholt by a hair as the man jumped back and attempted to strike again. Geralt swatted with his paw, earning a clash of claw and steel. It drew a line of red on the top of his paw and he hissed. Flapping his wings to try and make Boholt lose his footing with the air rush. It didn't really work so he tried a swipe next. This grazed Boholt's chest and drew an angry red line. Wet blood seeping into his clothing. The man roared and swung again. The sword making it to one of the wings where it bounced off of the bone.

Geralt hissed and flapped his wings hard, attempting to drop himself on Boholt, but within the narrow corridor there was not enough room for the beast to get high enough. Instead he attempted to push Boholt over. Slapping at him with wings, tails, trying to headbutt him like a Ram. When Boholt finally lost his stamina and strength, Geralt wanted to move in for the kill. But the commander was cunning and called his soldiers to fight his battles for him. Geralt was swarmed by at least a dozen men while Boholt first made his way further in, and then withdrew up the stairs with something kicking and screaming in his arms.

"No! Let me go! Geralt! Geralt!"

The voice called. And it sounded familiar. His name was being called. Over the noise of the battle. The beast felt something rise within. An anger, a protectiveness, a care. _Jaskier..._ He remembered. Blue eyes, brown hair, a sunny smile. A soothing voice calling his name. He remembered. Jaskier... He was here?! He came to rescue Geralt? He came for him! 

"Let me go you Bastard!"

The next thing Geralt heard was Boholt scream as the scent of his blood was released in the air. Jaskier had bitten in his hand so hard he bled. The boy fled up the stairs and Boholt groaned and tightened the grip on his sword.

"Rah! You little shit! I will feed you to the hounds!"

 _No!... Jaskier!_ It triggered an even more violent episode. All Geralt could see, was red. He would never allow them to hurt Jaskier. Never. Boholt would die before he'd lay a hand on Jaskier. Everything grew red within Geralt's vision. The walls, the floors, the men, the stairs. Everything. And he followed up by killing all of his attackers. Tearing through the numbers of soldiers to get to the top of the stairs. Finally there was an opening, and the wolf burst through the opening on top of the stairs into the hall. He looked around frantically but there was no sign of his Jaskier. He howled to call out. It was the only thing he could do to communicate. But there was no response. 

"Right here you overgrown pup!"

Boholt appeared within Geralt's vision. He was holding Jaskier. The beast sword pressed to the boy's throat. Like a bucket of ice water hitting him, Geralt froze. 

"Should i carve out your heart before or after i break it?"

Blood ran in trails down Boholt's face. Turning his scars even more horrifying. 

"Why don't you break this?!"

From behind him, a voice called out. Boholt made the mistake of turning around and getting hit in the head with the back of a sword. The hilt cracking against his skull which made him release Jaskier. The stranger quickly took a few steps back.

"Cahir! You're still alive. Thank the gods."

Jaskier called out. Some strange scent entered Geralt's nose. Something familiar. He could feel it. Cahir... He wasn't like the others. He was... Obrońca Lasu? No. No the scent and aura weren't strong enough. But.. why did it feel this way then? 

"Son of a bitch!"

Boholt yelled, swaying in his steps. 

"After everything we did for you?! You betray us?"

the stranger- Cahir glared at him. 

"What you did for me took away the only thing i've ever loved. I have no loyalty to you or Stregobor. You can die for all i care."

Geralt turned his head to Boholt with a snap and bared his teeth. Growling louder and louder while he slowly inched closer. Boholt raised his sword while he took a few shaking steps back. 

"Not yet!"

He yelled. More soldiers appeared. Cahir started fighting with a few. Geralt tore through the rest, but the closer he came to Cahir, the more violent and triggered he became. Something Cahir was emitting, be it a scent or aura, was making Geralt territorial and murderous. More then thirty men dirtied the floor. All dead and some in pieces. The scene was downright horrific and put even the most epic battles of history to shame. Boholt was the last man standing, with no sign of Stregobor anywhere. Geralt leaped towards him, Boholt screamed and within a few seconds, Boholt was reduced to nothing but dog food. Crunched between the jaws of Geralt's beast.

But there was another thing that kept Geralt's red vision in place. And slowly his large form turned around. Growling. Across the hall stood a man in dark clothing. Emitting a scent that triggered every natural instinct Geralt had as a beast. Cahir stepped back but kept eye contact. Geralt lowered his large body, taking a stance as if he was ready to pounce. Cahir didn't move. Chest rising and falling slowly despite his earlier fights with the soldiers. Drops of blood covered his face and his left hand was clutched on his sword tightly. Geralt inched closer. Glaring. Ready to attack. Cahir slowly relaxed the hand around his sword. Until it dropped from his hand with a clang. He slowly inched back, never breaking eye contact with Geralt.

The beast growled and pounced until suddenly, Jaskier stood between them and spread his arms.

"Geralt Stop! He's a friend!"

The beast was already in full leap. It landed too close, knocking Jaskier over.

"Geralt. Geralt please!"

Jaskier crawled backwards to avoid getting squashed beneath the large body. But Geralt growled. Something was calling him. Pulling at him. Telling him to kill. He couldn't tolerate a single one of these people to get away. Cahir knew Boholt. That was bad enough. That warranted blood being drawn. It itched. It hurt, It burned in his veins. The red haze that focused solely on the figure he was staring at. He growled as he inched closer, ignoring the smaller form that desperately tried to get between them. He was about to pounce again when suddenly..

There was a warmth at his wolf's head. A tingle, warm and light. Spreading from the contact point on his nose, to the rest of his head, shooting like little lightning particles through his large body. He felt the tremor from the tip of his tails to the tip of his wings, and the red haze lifted. Shock settled instead. He almost forgot... it was Jaskier. He had Jaskier between him and this other person. _Jaskier..._ The growl rumbled further into a deep purr. Something settled within Geralt. The beast that had run rampage until now was pushed to the background. All because Jaskier was... What was he doing? He... The warmth spreading and tingling increased. Cahir's eyes seemed to have widened at the sight. Geralt's eyes slid down to the tip of his nose to see what connection made him feel so... odd. And with shock he realized. _Jaskier... was pressing a kiss on his nose._

Geralt's large bestial body refused service. He stood completely frozen. Then his senses started to come back to him. Slowly he started feeling the wet floor beneath his paws, The filth sticking to his fur. The blood which he felt drying on his coat and which laced the room with a strong iron scent. There was just too much of it. And above all, the ache in his body. His injuries. His beast form, terrifyingly covered in the evidence of the murder of his enemies. White/grey hairs streaked with blood. Jaskier's scent overruled the irony tinge of the blood around them, calming him. And at the same time, filling him with wonder. Jaskier had seen the worst of him now. And yet, the boy was here. And what ever Geralt could smell on him, he still couldn't scent any fear.

Jaskier pulled back a little. Smiling. Geralt huffed, nosing the boy's cheek in recognition.

"See? You can do it. You stopped."

Geralt huffed and saw himself reflected in the boy's eyes. He looked terrible. Blood and guts everywhere. Knotted fur, a feral look in his eyes. He looked like a monster. There was even blood dripping from his horns. He wanted to pull away, but then he felt two warm hands slowly slide into the fur, grabbing both his cheeks. Keeping his large head in place.

"Don't. You don't have to hide. You don't have to run. Not anymore. You're used to people being afraid of you. I'm not."

Geralt huffed lowly. Turning his gaze back to Jaskier. The boy smiled at him like he always did. Radiant. As if he stole the sun and put it in the world behind his eyes. 

"We're alright."

We... him and Jaskier... they were both alright. A relief made Geralt drop through all four of his paws. Nosing at Jaskier to be sure he was uninjured. 

" _wyglądasz jakbyś był jedną nogą w grobie._ "

Geralt looked up confused when he heard his own language. Never mind the person telling him he looked half dead. With what Stregobor did to him and the blood and dirt of the fight clinging to him, they may be right. When he looked up it was the stranger who spoke. He looked calm, a little more relaxed. Looking at him, Geralt was a little less overcome with a strong urge to attack. But the uncomfortable feeling was still present. Jaskier turned around equally confused.

"You speak their language?"

Cahir carefully and slowly bend down to pick up his sword. He wiped it clean and sheathed it all under Geralt's watchful eye.

"I do. More questions will have to wait. We need to leave. It'll take a bit before he can turn back into his old self."

Jaskier turned to Geralt. 

"Just a bit further then. Come on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *you look like you're standing with one foot in your grave


	19. Chapter 19

Jaskier held his breath at the growl and the intense stare the beast before him was giving off. For a moment it seemed the large beast didn't recognize Jaskier. There was a dangerous glint in it's eyes. It sank deeper onto it's paws almost as if it was ready to pounce. But then, it's attention was drawn away by incoming soldiers. Jaskier didn't know whether he should be relieved or worried. He felt a bit of both. If Geralt barely recognized him like this, (either because he was in bestial form or because he was hurt, Jaskier didn't know which) there was no telling what he could do. It could be worse then the first night they encountered one another. Jaskier didn't want to say that's when they 'met' because that wasn't really an introduction of any kind. He worried because Geralt had acted before like he did not have full control over the form he was in now. It showed in his actions. He didn't need to admit it in words to Jaskier to let the boy know he was struggling. 

Jaskier had seen it in the way Geralt withdrew from him and gained this painful look in his eyes as if he was trying to wrestle something down. He noticed the flicker in Geralt's eyes when he was too close for too long and withdrew like the fire had burned him. He had heard it. Some nights when these terrible nightmares would plague them both and Jaskier was awake before Geralt was. He heard the growls and the whines and the pained and tortured noises Geralt subconsciously made in his sleep. If that didn't state the obvious then Jaskier had no clue what else it could mean. Now... seeing the beast in person, it made a lot of sense. It was so large and powerful, Jaskier understood how much effort it must have taken to keep the beast within. And yet even faced with the sheer deadly force, Jaskier found the creature beautiful and amazing. And he guessed the creature would be so even more once it was clean and groomed. The shiver running down his spine when Geralt dashed towards the soldier was definitely not one of fear. 

The hallway was a flurry of white fur, shiny weapons, black armor and blood. The whole fight went on so fast it was hard to follow. Geralt was a deadly force swooping through the ranks of the soldiers trying to pin him down. Jaskier stared at it with amazement and shock. It gave him an insight as to where the stories came from he was told as a child. The lethal horror side of the stories that humans seemed so fond of telling. But there was another side to the story. One Jaskier had seen with his own eyes. It wasn't all black and white. But it definitely wasn't one sided. He had lived with Geralt for the better part of four months now. Witnessed a season change. They planned on expanding their home by rebuilding the garden. Even if it brought them all this trouble, Jaskier was not giving up on that. He knew there were two sides to that place, just like there were two sides to Geralt. Of course this side had brought them bad things, but he fully believed they should finish what they started so it could give them good things. They would have fresh vegetables and fruit. They would be able to grow their own supplies for the winter. They could grow their own cotton to make more and different items like clothing and blankets. Thin ones for the summer, while they would have the fur for the winter. That's why Jaskier was determined to not give up on the garden. 

Even as he watched Geralt's bloodied form move through the hallway fast and unpredictable. Even as he heard soldiers scream. Even though he knew Geralt didn't want to hurt anyone. But Jaskier knew this wasn't their fault. He and Geralt were just minding their own business. It were the soldiers that ruined everything. Like the villagers had tried to do. People were ignorant. And Jaskier was less and less proud of the fact that he was human. Then again. What defined 'human'? Definitely not these monsters that had hurt Geralt for their own purposes. They weren't human. They couldn't be. Jaskier watched as Geralt started to fight Boholt. He wanted to help but what could he do? He never fought a day in his life. He'd only get in the way or worse... Geralt slowly seemed to gain the upper hand. Jaskier felt more relief then anything. Until from no where another large group of soldiers swarmed Geralt and jabbed at him from all sides.

Jaskier stepped forward, worried, looking around for something, anything. Perhaps a hint of a plan or just a weapon. There were plenty laying scatted on the floor, but none that he could use. Where the hell was Cahir? Surely the man had his own share of troubles but he was better adapt at fighting then Jaskier. Then someone grabbed him from behind and he yelled. Boholt was panting heavy and filthy hot in his ear, sweating like a pig and stinking like one too. His hands gripped around Jaskier like iron and the sour stench of his dirty skin reached up in Jaskier's nose. He didn't need enhanced senses like Geralt to get sick of this man. Had he never heard of bathing? Gross. Jaskier struggled against the grip. Kicking and screaming. He knew Geralt was dealing with soldiers right now, but the latter had always acted as though he would protect Jaskier. And the boy believed that to hold true now.

"No! Let me go! Geralt! Geralt!"

The beast seemed to look up with a growl and a familiar worried glint in it's golden eyes. It intensified Jaskier's struggle.

"Let me go you Bastard!"

Finally he got a hold of one of Boholt's hands and despite the foul smell he took a breath and then clung his teeth into the flesh as hard as he could. It was disgusting. Tasting bitter and salty, but Jaskier bit down harder and harder until his jaws ached. Boholt roared and pushed him away, clutching his bleeding hand. 

"Rah! You little shit! I will feed you to the hounds!"

The man bristled and gave chase to Jaskier who was now trying to get away as fast and as far as he could. He ran up into the hall, hoping he might find Cahir, but the latter was no where in sight. Behind him Boholt's heavy footsteps fell. Jaskier quickly ducked into a row of pillars, attempting to hide. Unfortunately he was a second too late and Boholt rounded the pillar from the other side, grabbing at Jaskier again. Covering his mouth with the bloodied hand and pressing a blade to his throat. That scared Jaskier. Just enough to keep himself still. He didn't panic, he wasn't so afraid he couldn't move. But he was weary and scared enough to know that if the blade pressed any harder into his skin, it would come away red. 

"Right here you overgrown pup!"

Boholt pushed him forward to the hall where Geralt had come up the stairs to chase them. It was a magnificently terrifying sight. Geralt's eyes stood wild and stormy, his thick white coat was covered in red streaks, it dripped down his muzzle and down some of his spines and his horns. It even dripped down the tips of his wings. The feathers stood ruffled but looked sharp as razors, as did the row of canine teeth that he bared. The claws tapped menacingly on the floor as Geralt adjusted his stance and lowered his body to hover above the ground between his four powerful paws. His three tails were thick with the hairs standing on end, swaying slowly. Jaskier became so entranced by the sight that he forgot his fear, he forgot who was holding him, or that there was the cold press of a blade to his throat. He could only stare at the demon before him. No not demon. The Obrońca Lasu. The Nature spirit and guardian in it's full glory. 

Others would be terrified. They would scream and run away. They would only see the horror before them and tremble, begging for their lives. But Jaskier saw the strength, the determination, the power that Geralt possessed to protect. _He will protect me. My guardian, my protector._ Jaskier's mind supplied this knowledge with calmth and trust. He trusted Geralt to save him. Even as the beast seemed to tense all over as he heard Boholt's voice sneer.

"Should i carve out your heart before or after i break it?"

As it turned out, Geralt didn't even need to come save him. Boholt pissed off one too many when from behind him a voice sneered back before punching him across the head with the hilt of a sword.

"Why don't you break this?!"

Jaskier felt the grip fall away as well as the blade. It enabled him to turn around and witness Cahir's disheveled appearance.

"Cahir! You're still alive. Thank the gods."

Jaskier sighed in relief. Cahir was helping him, if it cost him his life Jaskier wouldn't know if he would be able to forgive himself for that. There would be a lot of guilt for sure. He owed Cahir a great deal. A short and curious conversation followed between Boholt and Cahir. Honestly all Jaskier heard was the pain in Cahir's voice when he mentioned he lost.... was that why he was helping? Boholt cowardly called in more soldiers. But both Cahir and Geralt were too strong and quick and outmatched their numbers. They fell by the dozen. The next thing he heard were wet crunchy noises as Boholt seemed to turn into something unrecognizable within Geralt's powerful jaws. The sight wasn't exactly pleasant, but Jaskier knew that Boholt deserved it. He couldn't feel sorry for the way that ended.

Yet the threat didn't seem over. Not to Geralt at least. The large wolf head dripped with blood and saliva and it's murderous eyes now landed on Cahir. Somehow something about Cahir was a threat to Geralt. Jaskier didn't know what it was, but he couldn't let Geralt kill Cahir too. The man was the sole reason Jaskier managed to get Geralt out of his cell. The beast growled and pounced until suddenly, Jaskier threw himself between them and spread his arms. Desperately attempting to stop Geralt from taking Cahir down. He tried to distract Geralt with his presence, but it didn't really seem to help.

"Geralt Stop! He's a friend!"

The beast was already in full leap. It landed too close, knocking Jaskier over.

"Geralt. Geralt please!"

Jaskier had to crawl backwards to keep from getting trapped between Geralt's large paws. He had a crazed look in his eyes. Something more then wild. Something uncontrolled. Jaskier tried to think of what to do. He thought of the night he was sacrificed. Geralt had lost control then. But something made him snap out of it. Made him come back into control. What was it? What could he do? Jaskier quickly thought back on the time they spend together. It were the simple gestures that seemed to light Geralt up. When they were working and Jaskier slowly and patiently taught him words. Sometimes showing examples. When he offered Geralt a drink after working for a few hours. When he proudly showed Geralt how much his sewing skills had improved. These small moments. They seemed to calm him. Something sweet. Something endearing. Possibly something affectionate. That was it!

Without thinking twice, Jaskier leaned forward and ignored the strong scent of blood. He brought his lips to the top of Geralt's nose, still somewhat clean and pressed down onto the softness. The beast seemed to halt instantly in his actions. It slowly relaxed and the haze seemed to lift from it's eyes. It re-positioned itself into a non-threatening stance. And as Jaskier pulled back with a smile the large wolf head softly nuzzled his cheek in recognition. 

"See? You can do it. You stopped."

The beast looked at him. And in response almost wanted to pull away. A shadow of shame and guilt seemed to draw over his golden eyes, but Jaskier would have none of it. Instead he slit his hands into the soft fur of Geralt's wolf cheeks and kept the large head in place. Gently coaxing him to stay.

"Don't. You don't have to hide. You don't have to run. Not anymore. You're used to people being afraid of you. I'm not."

It worked. The shadows lifted and the wolf nuzzled him again. Pushing against him lightly and affectionately, but also to make sure if he was okay. Then Cahir announced it was time to go in a rather surprising way. He spoke ancient language. It left many questions to be answered. The main thing was having to get Geralt cleaned up and his wounds treated. Jaskier looked around. They left a slaughter in the halls of the keep. It wasn't a pleasant sight. Fortunately there was no one left to stop them from leaving through the front gate. Jaskier wasn't sure if there was anyone left at all. 

Though Geralt no longer tried to kill Cahir, they kept their distance from each other. Jaskier lead the beast outside considering Geralt wouldn't get more then three feet away from him at all times and continuously nuzzled Jaskier. They made it to the tree line away from the keep and followed it all the way around the village to make sure no one would see them. 

* * *

Jaskier could tell Geralt was tired and slowly started to get more sore because of his injuries. He limped a little with one of his paws. Suddenly the wolf threw it's head up. Sniffing the air for something. Jaskier could tell from the angle of the village through the trees that this had to be close to where he and Płotka split up. And yes, suddenly the beast let out a low pitched howl and rushed forward, while a loud and high whinnie came as a reply through the bushes and heavy hoof steps rapidly approached. Cahir quickly stepped aside as he barely avoided getting caught underneath Płotka who came storming through the bushes. The sight was a rather odd one and yet Jaskier had never seen something so endearing. Despite his soreness and his pain, Geralt yipped and bounced around her like a young pup. She responded equally enthusiastic while kicking her hooves out and prancing like an excited young filly. They exchanged a series of noises back and forth and Cahir huffed at the sight in amazement. 

"huh... well would you look at that."

Jaskier smiled as he leaned against a nearby tree. This whole ordeal had left him drained. Emotionally for the most part. Yet he smiled at the sight and felt warmth blooming in his chest as he looked at them reunite.

Finally they were too tired to keep bouncing around one another, and traded for the next best thing. Płotka stepped forward and lowered her head a little, she was still a little taller then Geralt, but in this form of his, the height difference wasn't as large as when he was a man. Geralt angled his head and pressed them together. Rubbing their heads together with a satisfied and affectionate rumble. She huffed back and tilted her head to nuzzle him. Sniffing at him and pressing her head back against him again. He followed suit. They stood there for a while, heads pressed together until finally, Płotka pulled away. She came up to Jaskier and nuzzled him too. He smiled and petted her nose with a happy sigh.

"I'm glad to see you too Płotka."

Cahir turned his head towards the village and narrowed his eyes.

"Look this is all very touching but could we possibly continue the display of affection somewhere safer?"

Płotka bristled annoyed and seemed to send him a particularly funny glare. Jaskier quickly pushed her head in a different direction. 

"Be nice. He helped me save Geralt. And he saved me too."

She snorted as if to say 'yeah right' and turned before she lowered herself through her knees so Jaskier could climb onto her back. Cahir eyed the display with partial disbelief as Jaskier climbed on and she stood to her legs again. 

"Płotka knows the way home. We'll have to take it slow for Geralt. It'll take more then a day or two to get there like this. What about you?"

Cahir sighed as he looked at the odd trio. 

"I suppose i owe you a few answers. I could come with you for now. But when you're close to home i will have to leave. You won't be able to stop him from killing me otherwise."

Jaskier frowned.

"Why would he do that?"

"His kind is extremely territorial. Normally i can fend for myself but i have never seen a Wolf Obrońca before. Especially not a white one. They are more powerful then the rest of their species. I have no doubt that even when injured this badly, he could kill me. Not because he wants to. But because it's instinct. It's buried so deep into his being he can hardly fight it."

"But you're human."

Cahir sighed and shook his head.

"I was.. once. Not anymore. I will answer your questions to the best of my capabilities when we've made camp. For now it would be wiser to keep moving and find a stream to clean up in. His wounds need tending."

Jaskier nodded and whispered a 'let's go, girl' to Płotka which mades her move in a slow pace. Geralt walked closely next to her. Cahir slowly fell into step a little ways behind them. Quiet and composed. Too quiet. Almost as if he barely even touched the ground. Just like Geralt, Jaskier noticed, who only makes noise with his limp, otherwise Jaskier suspected he would make no noise at all. He looked back from time to time just to see if Cahir was still there. And like that, they slowly reached a flowing stream. Soft flowing water lapped against the cobblestones on the banks. Cahir walked to the stream a little further away and splashed some cold water in his face. Then he wiped it with a sleeve.

"Now... Since i can't touch him, you'll have to help clean him up. I'll go scout the area. I should be back in an hour or two. If not, assume you'll go without me."


	20. Chapter 20

Geralt stayed close to Jaskier. After having reunited with him and being calmed by him -with a kiss on his nose no less- he felt the need to stay close. He also kept his distance to Cahir just as Cahir kept his distance to Geralt to avoid more violence between them. It was partly confusing. He wasn't like Geralt. At least not fully or even Jaskier couldn't have stopped Geralt from ripping Cahir's head off. But he was something that triggered the same kind of instinct in smaller amounts. It was strange. There were only few exceptions to the rule. 

They made their way out of the keep and into the treeline. Using the cover of the forest to circle the village at the base of the keep. Geralt was slow, sore, slightly limping. His wounds made it a bit harder to get around soundless. At least he still managed to walk. In this form it would be impossible to be moved. He was too large and too heavy. His wolf form was a lot larger then any ordinary wolf. With the addition of his horns, the spines, his wings and three tails the weight only increased. Slow progress was however still progress. And it wasn't long until his wolf senses caught a whiff of a familiar scent. One he would recognize anywhere. Płotka, his friend and companion for many years, was close by. She probably sensed him too. Her scent became stronger the longer he walked. 

Relief washed over him like nothing had before. When he was captured he had been so worried Płotka might have been hurt. Or that the soldiers would have captured her too. Boholt had been talking about it in a way that promised nothing good. Geralt hadn't seen her since she bolted off into the bushes and he hadn't seen her since. He had no clue what happened to her until he saw Jaskier in the keep. He hadn't really thought about how the boy was here, but now that he looked back on it, he knew Płotka must have run off to get him. Smart girl. He owed her so much. Even though in theory this was only evening out the score. Since he found and cared for her since she was a little filly. A foal even. 

A low howl rumbled in his throat and he let it out. Calling out to her. The sweet sound of her whinnies followed and his pain was forgotten as he darted towards her. Seeing her in full health left him in an even happier state. Worry falling off his shoulders like the heavy chains had fallen from his paws when Jaskier freed him. His soreness and pain seemed less when he darted around her in sheer relief. The humans had not hurt her. And she had gone and fetched Jaskier. Saving Geralt this way by acting on the problem rather then bolting off with no clue what to do. Or worse, following him and getting captured. He silently praised her brave actions and her smart mind and she expressed her happiness to be reunited with him as she darted around him with equal vigor. When finally both had enough, Płotka because she was tired, Geralt because he started to feel his wounds again, they slowed to a stop and pressed their heads together. A sweet snuggle as animal form of a hug to say to each other: _I'm so happy to see you. I'm so glad you're okay._

Finally when the mare pulled away, she walked up to Jaskier and pushed her nose against him. He seemed a bit tired but he still smiled like a ray of sunshine.

"I'm glad to see you too Płotka."

The sight warmed Geralt like a soothing balm for his wounds. He hadn't ever thought that Płotka would become so fond of a human. Since she distrusted or even outright disliked everyone else she met. Then Cahir turned his head towards the village and narrowed his eyes.

"Look this is all very touching but could we possibly continue the display of affection somewhere safer?"

Geralt turned his head. Right... Cahir. He was still here. Płotka bristled annoyed and seemed to send him a particularly funny glare. Geralt was used to her antics but she never seemed to bond with anyone but him and now Jaskier. The boy quickly pushed her head in a different direction as if to distract her from the stranger. Perhaps it was the unease that made her this way. Płotka could sense tension better then anyone. And there was a lot of that between Geralt and Cahir.

"Be nice. He helped me save Geralt. And he saved me too."

Jaskier said. Geralt turned his head to Cahir. Eying the man sideways. It was true, he had jumped in the moment Boholt tried to cut Jaskier's throat. Geralt was nothing if not grateful, but that didn't erase the questions that raised in his mind. There was the lingering sense of a threat hanging around Cahir. Something that pulsed in a reaction to Geralt's being. And send back the same kind of aura. But what he also sensed when Cahir looked at Jaskier and Płotka, was pain. A deep stabbing pain that was laced with both anger and grief and loss... Emptiness. 

Jaskier climbed on Płotka's back and they went off. Going further away from the keep and the slaughter they left behind. Cahir was still on edge. Tense, as if he was waiting for something. Geralt could sense it on him. Cahir didn't believe they were safe. Which could only mean that there were survivors. Boholt was dead. It couldn't be him. But... Wait... Geralt recalled the events in the keep step by step. Stregobor... Geralt hadn't been able to get to him and kill him. So if Cahir didn't kill him either, the old sorcerer was still on the loose. He had gotten away from the fight. It would explain why Cahir was still on edge as if the battle was not over. He wanted to make sure they weren't being followed. 

Geralt himself was in no condition to do a sweep himself to see if they were indeed safe. Despite his partial distrust in Cahir's being, he did trust the man's intentions to keep them safe. That was the only reason Geralt was not incredibly tense himself as they halted by the stream. 

"Now... Since i can't touch him, you'll have to help clean him up. I'll go scout the area. I should be back in an hour or two. If not, assume you'll go without me."

Cahir said before he disappeared into the greenery surrounding them. Geralt huffed and limped his way to the stream where his big paws waddled into the water. It was cold and it stung a little but it was refreshing. And far better then the sticky pull of the dirt and grime on his coat. Jaskier jumped down from his ride on Płotka and let her do her own thing while he walked over to Geralt. He pulled off his boots and cape, then his doubled and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and the legs of his breeches to his knees. Carefully he stepped into the ankle-deep water and shivered.

"g-ah, that's cold. I'm sure there was white fur under there at some point. Let's see if we can find it."

Jaskier chuckled. His ability to joke calmed Geralt further. It meant that Jaskier himself was also relaxed and able to deal with the situation rather then be badly shaken about what happened. Which, in all honesty, was not what Geralt expected. Especially with the brutal murder on the soldiers and the blood and the screaming, and his terrifying appearance. That would be more then enough to give anyone nightmares and send them away screaming. Jaskier had pushed himself through it all and he was still here, calmer then Geralt ever thought he would be. And able to function perfectly fine despite being witness to that horrible event. At some point, Geralt wondered if Jaskier was purely human. His scent, Aura and everything else never betrayed anything that said otherwise. But then there was his seemingly inability to be afraid. Jaskier did not fear. Or Geralt simply couldn't smell it on him. It once again proved why they found themselves in this situation they were in. This all started that one night because Jaskier was anything but normal. He was different, strange. A riddle Geralt couldn't quite solve. And yet slowly he started to wonder if he wanted to solve it at all. 

Then Geralt noticed that perhaps Jaskier wasn't as different as he thought. When his hands cupped to bring some water to Geralt's head, they were shaking lightly. So it did effect him after all. It just wasn't as obvious as it would have been were it anyone else. Geralt huffed slowly and pushed his head against Jaskier's chest. The latter let out a shaky laugh and brought his hands up to comb through the dirty fur. 

"I'm so sorry they hurt you. I'm so sorry that i didn't get there sooner. They almost killed you. I-"

Jaskier halted. His voice trembling softly, as if only now the reality set in and the realization of recent events pressed heavy on his shoulders. Geralt whined softly. He was alright. He was sore, and yes he had injuries, but he was truly okay. Jaskier sniffled a little and Geralt rubbed his head against him softly. Trying to avoid the scrape of his horns and smearing the dirt onto Jaskier's clothes. Jaskier however didn't seem to care about his clothes. He wrapped his arms around the wolf's head and pressed his face into the fur. He smelled like he always did, of pine, sandalwood and buttercups. But now he also smelled like the earth after rain and something sweeter. The pure relief rolled off of him like waves. Invading Geralt's senses. 

"Please..." Jaskier's voice sounded so soft and so fragile it tugged at Geralt's heart so much it almost broke him. 

"Please don't ever leave me. I don't know what i'd do if-... Just... Just stay with me please."

Jaskier's body trembled and Geralt felt something warm drip onto his head. He could tell Jaskier was crying. He huffed softly as if to say _'I won't leave you'_ He couldn't even imagine his life without Jaskier anymore. In four months the boy's presence had completely taken over his life. And he guessed that Jaskier felt the same. It was the only consistency for them both. The only assurance that they wouldn't be alone. The only comfort. Living together, making the best of their days together. What else could they do? Geralt couldn't connect with anyone else because of who he was. Płotka, the sweet girl, was good company, but that was different. A true conversation would from her side never exist in words. And Jaskier was cast out of his village as sacrifice and declared dead to society. He could move to a different town but then what? He had no one left. His father no longer acknowledged him, his mother was dying... bless the poor woman she tried... she tried so hard to support Jaskier even after all that happened. The town just moved against her, as did time and illness. For Geralt and Jaskier, each other was all they had now. Together with Płotka they would be fine. As long as one would never leave the other alone again. Geralt had learned that lesson painfully this time. 

Geralt pushed against the weight resting on his head gently. Patiently waiting for Jaskier to let all his emotions out. It was odd how equally effected Geralt felt. In sync with Jaskier's relief. And even his tears, of which an echo rolled down the fur beneath Geralt's eyes. Eventually Jaskier pulled back, wiping at his face with an arm.

"Ugh.. now i believe i said something about finding white fur, not tears. But it seems i found those first."

He let out a watery chuckle and once again, Geralt nuzzled him. Comforting him. How eager he was now to turn back into his other form again. How badly he wished he could change this instant. He would pull Jaskier into his arms and hug him. Safely tucked against his chest where the world couldn't hurt him. But that would have to wait. 

"Alright. I will try to be careful. I'm sorry if it stings. Lets start with your head."

Jaskier said as he cupped some more water. Geralt lowered his head, resting his chin on the pebbles barely a thumb under water. So Jaskier could reach and clean his head. The boy was patient, careful. Combing through the knotted fur with his fingertips. Rinsing out all the dirt and caked blood and other filth that didn't belong there. Jaskier huffed in annoyance when it didn't go the way he wanted it to. In the end the result was him pulling his shirt over his head and using it as a wash cloth. It ruined the fabric but Jaskier simply decided he did not care. The boy was still a bit lean, but seemed to have hints of a muscular form rising underneath his skin. At least he didn't look skinny and Geralt had felt the weight of him on his head, which meant that he could safely assume he wasn't feeding Jaskier enough anymore. Or that Jaskier hadn't taken good care of himself these past few days.

Jaskier tip toed to reach Geralt's horns to clean them. His fingers running across the roughened surface a bit faster then the first time but equally gentle. Then pushed or pulled at certain sides of Geralt's head to make him turn. Geralt patiently followed every direction, allowing himself to rest while Jaskier cared for him. Płotka stood on the bank close by with her head down, sniffing and nibbling at the grass here and there or sipping water. Mostly ignoring the two in the water. After a while she found a spot where she laid down fully stretched to catch the sun on her coat. She felt safe otherwise she would never have laid down to take a nap. At least that told them there were no threats nearby and they weren't followed. Still... It was a good thing that Cahir went out to check. They didn't want to be caught by surprise. Definitely not now. 

Jaskier worked tirelessly on him. Geralt felt himself get better and cleaner bit by bit as the boy moved to his flank. He pushed at the right wing and Geralt raised it a little to let Jaskier crawl under and clean the fur there. Then lowered when Jaskier pulled at the wing to bring it down. The boy needed to climb partially on top of him to clean the fur and the spikes on his back. Those smaller hands poked and prodded at him to clean and to check for wounds and it coaxed Geralt into a hazy, sleepy feeling. Only the occasional sting from a fresh wound would keep him awake. He rolled to his other side when Jaskier needed it and lifted and lowered the other wing per instruction. Dozing off in the sun and under the care of the boy. Then the boy brushed each of his three tails out with care, precision and patience. 

Finally after some time had passed, Geralt was at least clean. The wounds were easier to check up on and his fur was once again the white it should be. Jaskier instead looked a little worse for wear. His hair was ruffled, there were dirty streaks on his upper body here and there, his hands were red and shirt ruined. But he had the most satisfied look on his face. Nodding to the result of his hard work. 

"There you are! This is much better. You're white again."

Geralt blinked slowly at the words. _'There you are'_ It reminded him of the night Jaskier finally got to see his face. Again and again this boy seemed to amaze him. There just was no end to the surprises. Jaskier bend to wash himself, until he too was presentable again. Płotka then decided to stop napping and get on her feet again. A little more aware then her usual lounging around attitude. The reason for that came through the tree line just as Jaskier squeezed the water out of his ruined shirt and put his doublet back on.

"It doesn't look as though we're being followed. I suspect Stregobor is off to one of his other estates to lick his wounds. If he's smart he stays there. But then again, i've never known him to be the smart type.."

Cahir let his eyes rest on Geralt and nodded as he looked at the result.

"You worked fast Jaskier."

Jaskier turned to look at Geralt and showed a pout.

"In all earnest i scrubbed the dirt off but his wounds need treating and i haven't gotten around to care for the wings. They look a little ruffled."

Cahir tilted his head but he could see what Jaskier meant. Geralt squinted at him, not entirely certain if he was happy the man came back.

"There will be plenty of time for that. At least now there is no hurry to get where you need to go. We can make camp when the sun sets."

Jaskier seemed happy about that. Geralt could sense him perk up at the mention of camp. The boy turned to him.

"You hear that Geralt? We can go home."

 _Home..._ Geralt frowned inwardly at the word. He had always seen it as a cave, or a house at best. But a home... that had something... meaningful. Something more intimate and cozy. Something that, when he thought about it, he really liked. Yeah... he was ready to go home.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope i have this done in time to wish you all a happy Easter. Stay safe in these weird times but don't forget to enjoy the good things. AND I'M SORRY FOR DOING THIS TO YOU ON EASTER. I swear i will update soon to make up for it. But i fear Cahir's story is a rather sad one. Prepare tissues darlings. This will be a bit of a tearjerker.

* * *

Geralt seemed to get the general idea of getting cleaned up. The large wolf form limped to the water and stepped into the shallow part, laying down there. Geralt must be tired too. Jaskier thought. After all the beast had been hurt, then he had to fight and since it would take a bit for him to change back -at least according to Cahir- he would also have to walk himself. His beast form was almost as big as Płotka, there was no way she could carry him like this. Jaskier took off his boots and cape and set them aside along with his doublet. Then he rolled up his sleeves and the legs of his breeches, ready to step in and help clean Geralt up. Stepping into the water made him shiver. It was cold and bit at his ankles for a mere moment till his skin got used to the shifted temperature. It reminded him of what he guessed was only a fraction of the pain that Geralt must have been feeling. The hurt he went through too.

Jaskier looked up at this magnificent beast, hurt, covered in filth, looking worse then a stray dog. It hurt his heart. His blue eyes slid over all the redness and grey and black dirt streaks, brown, from where the blood had caked and dried. Some pinks here and there where it laid lighter on the coat. This sight, with Geralt so calmly laying there. Tired, trusting, wrecked... It made reality sink in for Jaskier. The boy felt it sting behind his eyes. The realization dawned on him that if this had gone on for much longer, Geralt would have died. He wouldn't be here. Jaskier wouldn't ever see him again. Would never be able to teach him any more words or play the Lute for him. Geralt would never have been able to teach him something new about surviving-no, Living up the mountain in the middle of Nature's wonders. They would never be able to finish that Garden together. Jaskier would be all alone again. Unable to return to his village, only able to move forward. 

A heavy feeling constricted his chest. His breathing becoming heavier. He realized that he had come to care about Geralt a great deal. He wanted to stay with him. He wanted to help Geralt through his struggles and his nightmares like the other had done for him. And he wanted to take away the sadness in Geralt's life. The loneliness. No one should be alone. Least of all a creature that didn't deserve everything that had been done to him. Geralt just tried to live his life. It were other people, humans, who made it impossible. And they almost succeeded in ending it all together. 

He tried to shake the feeling, but he couldn't. When he went to cup some water to start washing Geralt's head, his hands shook and he trembled. Fully aware of the tears brimming at his eyes. Geralt seemed to notice. The large Obrońca moved it's head forward. Pushing his nose against Jaskier's chest to comfort him. Jaskier let his fingers slide through the soft fur with a shaky laugh. More affected then he wanted to show. He wanted to be strong. But his care won over his composure as it always did. 

"I'm so sorry they hurt you. I'm so sorry that i didn't get there sooner. They almost killed you. I-"

Jaskier leaned forward. His arms wrapping around Geralt's head. He didn't care if it made him dirty too. He didn't care if the blood on the fur was transferred to him. The sticky but soft coat tickled his face as he pushed his head to it. Geralt was warm. He was alive. And Jaskier couldn't express how grateful he was for this. But also what worry he still had if anything like this should ever happen again. He hoped it would never happen again. But how could he be sure?

"Please." His voice cracked a little. "Please don't ever leave me. I don't know what i'd do if-... Just... Just stay with me please."

Geralt huffed lowly with little noises to comfort Jaskier as if the Obrońca was trying to say he would never leave Jaskier alone again. The beast rubbed it's head against Jaskier and let him cry. Responding to him with little sounds as his only way of communicating at the moment. But it was enough. It was more then enough. Though Jaskier heard no words, he understood it perfectly. He cried until the crying turned to soft sobs and the soft sobs to hiccups until eventually, he was able to regain his composure. And yet he was tempted to cry more just with how patient Geralt was with him. He sniffled and dried his eyes and let out a trembling laugh. 

"Ugh.. now i believe i said something about finding white fur, not tears. But it seems i found those first."

The beast once again nuzzled him and it made Jaskier smile and fill with warmth.

"Alright. I will try to be careful. I'm sorry if it stings. Lets start with your head."

* * *

Jaskier worked patiently and careful, trying not to agitate the wounds. He decided using his hands wasn't good enough to get Geralt clean, so he opted for using his shirt as a wash cloth. It would ruin the thing but clothing be damned, Geralt's health was far more important. He worked from side to side, front to back. One bit at the time to make sure he didn't miss anything. He ducked under Geralt's wing to clean his sides and the wing, impressed by the size and strength of it. He moved the large beast into the desired positions to reach the areas to clean up better. Jaskier wouldn't admit it out loud, but he felt a bit giddy and even proud at the fact that he could prod and poke at this beast (which was almost twice as big as he was) and turn it into position, and the large Obrońca would just let him. Geralt seemed to be half asleep under Jaskier's hands and it just felt so endearing. Jaskier was truly touched by how much Geralt trusted him. 

He raked his fingers across the soft fur, the feathers, the fluff of the tails. It tickled his fingers, the roughened bony surface of the horns and the spines made his hands tingle. And it all felt so warm. If Geralt wasn't injured, Jaskier would have let himself throw two arms and a face into the softness of Geralt's fur and embrace him until he was forced to get his head out of the soft coat to breathe. 

"There you are! This is much better. You're white again."

He said when he finally stepped back to look at his handy work. Honestly it wasn't all there yet. He still had wounds to treat and the wings were still ruffled and unkempt. But Geralt's form looked white again. It was a far better sight then the one he had set eyes on when he entered Sodden Keep. 

"It doesn't look as though we're being followed. I suspect Stregobor is off to one of his other estates to lick his wounds. If he's smart he stays there. But then again, i've never known him to be the smart type.."

Jaskier turned at the sound of the voice finding Cahir stepping through the bushes. A little unkempt and dirty, but no more then he was when they left Sodden Keep. Cahir let his eyes rest on Geralt and nodded as he looked at the result.

"You worked fast Jaskier."

Jaskier turned to look at Geralt and showed a pout. Honestly he hadn't done as much as he'd like. But this would have to do for now. He didn't have the items to dress Geralt's wounds properly. They were all back home. At their place. The place he left behind in a hurry to find Geralt. He hoped everything would still be as he left it when they returned.

"In all earnest i scrubbed the dirt off but his wounds need treating and i haven't gotten around to care for the wings. They look a little ruffled."

Cahir nodded. He couldn't really help with that though. Jaskier knew that. Geralt and Cahir couldn't get too close without trying to fight each other to the death. It made Jaskier think about Cahir's story. What exactly happened to him?

"There will be plenty of time for that. At least now there is no hurry to get where you need to go. We can make camp when the sun sets."

Jaskier perked up at the suggestion. His previous questions temporarily forgotten.

"You hear that Geralt? We can go home."

Oh he longed for that. He longed for the calm evenings, with him playing Lute and Geralt making dinner. He longed for the productive days. Working side by side to improve their life. He looked forward to it. 

* * *

By the time the sun set, they had traveled further then Jaskier initially thought they would. Geralt, despite his injuries, had been able to make more progress. His limp had slowly started to bother him less. And yet Jaskier told him to slow down each time he thought Geralt was trying to push through to make more progress. He didn't want the Obrońca to be in pain. By the time they made camp, the beast was so exhausted that he plopped to the ground and would not be swayed to move in any direction. Cahir build a fire and Jaskier settled himself against Geralt, between his large front and back paws, leaning against a part of his side that was thankfully uninjured. Geralt fell asleep almost instantly, and though Jaskier was tired, he felt sleep was still too far away for him to grasp.

Instead he turned his gaze to Cahir, who prodded the fire with a stick. Płotka had settled for standing off to the side, refusing to lay down however. She stood like wild fire mares would sleep. Upright. Ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. It was clear she didn't feel safe enough to lay down. Once again it made Jaskier think of the things Cahir had said. The only conclusion could be that something terrible had happened to him. Perhaps... now that they made camp, Cahir wouldn't be too opposed to answer some questions. 

"Say... Cahir?.."

"Yes Jaskier?"

"I uhm... I'm sorry if i'm being forward. But i've been thinking about what you said... And i wonder what you meant by it?"

Cahir pulled his knees up and let his elbows rest on them. Twirling a leaf of grass between his fingers.

"You'll have to specify which part."

Jaskier was quiet for a bit, trying to assemble the right words. Cahir waited calmly for him to find what he was looking for.

"ehm well.. You mentioned something about... Being human once... but not anymore. And at the keep.. what you said to Boholt... About them taking away something from you..."

Cahir let out a sigh and nodded his head. Reaching up to push one of his stray blonde locks from his face.

"I suppose after everything that happened it's only logical you have questions. I'm not comfortable sharing this with just anyone."

Jaskier nodded in understanding. He didn't want to push beyond limits or cross invisible lines by pressing Cahir for answers.

"It's okay. You don't have to share if you don't want to."

"Thank you. But i've kept this to myself for a long time. It's time to start talking."

He threw the little grass leaf away and lowered his arms, straightening out his legs as he stared into the fire. A sadness seemed to overcome him. One that made Jaskier feel pity even without knowing the story.

"Try not to judge me on this, i've long since seen the error in my ways, but i used to work for Stregobor. In fact i pretty much held the same position as Boholt did. Only without so many men under my command. I was raised in a family of trackers. Hunters specializing in tracking down certain wanted animals or criminals or even missing persons. Stregobor said he wanted to use the skills of a good tracker and he paid well. I was naive and took the job thinking nothing of it. Occasionally i had to bring him a runaway disciple or student, a criminal or the more exotic of animals for his fancy parties. For meat or decoration. Whichever it was i never asked. I always brought everyone, everything in alive. No questions asked."

Jaskier nodded as he himself pulled his cape around him against the chill that crept up on him and cuddled a little closer to the sleeping Geralt.

"So you merely did as he required of you."

Cahir confirmed it with a nod.

"I was ignorant though. I may have brought them in a live, but i didn't bother to find out whether Stregobor kept them alive or not. I found out much later that he tortured some of the victims i brought in, to death. Painfully."

Jaskier gasped.

"One day Stregobor asked me to bring him a beast. He described it to me, said it had been seen on the edge of the western forest. Back then i had no idea what an Obrońca Lasu was."

Jaskier turned his head to look at Geralt, soundly sleeping beside him before he looked back to Cahir and encouraged him to go on. Cahir's face seemed to change. To light up a little in the fire light. Something shining in his eyes. Something oddly vulnerable and yet peaceful.

"I don't brag about my skills. But it took me little time to find her. The Obrońca. She was... magnificent. This powerful Deer-like form. Antlers reaching up to the skies it seemed. Beautiful brown doe eyes. Her coat a shining deep mahogany brown. And she was so graceful. She moved soundlessly. I was stunned. And i was a threat to her, she could have easily killed me. Pinning me on her antlers and be done with me. But she didn't. She stood up on her hind legs, turned into a human and said: hello."

Jaskier smiled as he imagined what she must have looked like. Cahir looked so passionate as he spoke about her. So full of her impressions still. But it was a forebode for something darker. Jaskier could feel it. The build towards pain and suffering. 

"She sounds beautiful."

"She was. Gods she was everything. When she said hello to me, i was certain i would never leave those woods again. I fell in love. I couldn't bring her back to Stregobor. I just couldn't. I told her about the danger. We kept meeting up in secret. But as all well known stories can tell you: sneaking around never goes well for very long. Stregobor found out about us. I thought he would be angry at me. But he seemed oddly sympathetic. I didn't understand why."

Cahir took up a stick to prod at the fire a bit more.

"As it turns out, he was manipulating me the whole time. By telling me the truth as well as lying to me. A deadly combination of need to knows. One day he asked me what i would do if she would outlive me. I asked what he meant and he proceeded to tell me this: Obrońca Lasu live for thousands of years. When they bond they bond deeply and rarely for less then a lifetime. If she bonded with me, i would grow old beside her and die, leaving her all alone. She would be heartbroken, so much so that she would fall into a blind rage and never be able to stop her streak of violence until she would die as well."

Jaskier bit his lip, imagining the violence he saw in Sodden Keep. Only then worse, and unstoppable.

"I asked him what i could do. Humans don't live that long and i didn't want to leave her behind, hurt and alone and forced to destroy everything in her path until death would catch up with her. I didn't want my death to make her a monster. He said he could help me. That there was a way to make me immortal too. All i had to do, was collect her, and bring her to the keep during a new moon. Stregobor would do the rest. I should have realized the trap when he proposed this. But i was desperate."

Cahir's mood changed again. To something dark. Angry. And above all, filled with pain and grief.

"You brought her to the keep."

Jaskier supplied. And Cahir could only admit it.

"I did. I told her to trust me. I told her we could be together if we did what Stregobor said. She trusted me. And i trusted Stregobor. And in return for that, he used me as an experiment. He had me subdued with this potion. It kept me out of it for hours. When i woke up, all i felt was pain. My senses were heightened. I was able to see, hear, smell and feel things i normally wouldn't be able to. For a mere moment i thought that the plan had worked. But it kept hurting. Something felt wrong. Something inside me felt... angry and aggressive. It was then that i noticed the blood. It invaded everything. I felt it, smelled it, saw it... Then i saw her..."

Cahir shook his head and rubbed at his eyes which had become wetter the longer he spoke.

"He carved out her heart. And he placed it in me. Replacing my heart with hers. He killed her, to turn me into an immortal man. A sick and unnatural hybrid of two races. After that he tortured me for days. Forcing me to try everything to bring out the beast she had been. To see if i could turn into one too. But i couldn't. Whatever he had done had only affected my lifespan and my senses. Nothing more. I had no added speed or strength, no beast form to turn into. I was a disappointment to him. He would have gotten rid of me just for that. But on her blood i swore my revenge."

"I'm not proud of it but I had to keep working for him to get my revenge. I pretended to be broken. I pretended to remain loyal to Stregobor just so i could wait for the opportunity to strike back. But something always got in the way. I grew tired of waiting, but whatever i tried, Stregobor was always one step ahead of me. As if he seemed to enjoy this as a game he was playing. He took my only love away from me, turned me into this... a man with the heart of an Obrońca beating in his chest... and for that he will pay. One way or another."

Silence fell between them. Jaskier felt his chest constrict as if the pain of Cahir's story was his own. He felt like it was hard to breathe and he could certainly understand why Cahir was so bitter about it. The poor man lost what he loved most and the worst of it was that he had to carry the evidence around with him every day. To carry the heart of your loved one... keeping you alive. Reminding you with every beat that you're here and they are not... Jaskier couldn't imagine how terrible that was. To bare it everyday. It had to be torture. It left no room for doubt that in this story... Stregobor was the real monster.

"That's how you knew Geralt was in danger. Stregobor wanted his heart for an experiment."

Cahir looked up, the fire lighting up his eyes, dancing with the fury behind them. It made him look a little scarier. 

"Not just an experiment. He has been making progress on this. What he did to me made me immortal and refined in my senses yes. But that's not what he wants. He wanted Geralt's heart because he is one of the strongest Obrońca of his kind. Stregobor is a sorcerer. He already has an incredibly long lifespan. He doesn't want immortality, he wants power. He wants to be a god. He wants to be Obrońca Lasu with all the perks and privileges, and without the uncontrollable instincts. If he succeeds he will be in perfect control, and also immune to Vermillion. Almost nothing and no one will be able to defeat him then. He must never be allowed to succeed with this ritual. Now that we tore through Boholt and his men, Stregobor is left with little protection. As soon as you and Geralt have returned home, i'm going after him."

Jaskier looked up wide eyed with worry. Going after him.. alone? He said it himself, the man was a sorcerer and rotten to the bone. He would use tricks to gain the upper hand and Cahir would be left with nothing.

"You can't go after him alone. You said it yourself, he's a sorcerer."

"I have to... For her."

Cahir laid a hand across his chest, where the heart laid beneath his skin. Jaskier still felt worried. But he understood Cahir's pain.

"What was her name?"

Jaskier asked softly. Cahir looked up, a smile on his face and yet sadness and a mist of tears in his eyes.

"Renfri.... Her name was Renfri."


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: To be honest, i didn't plan on going into this direction with Cahir and Stregobor and Boholt and all that. When i started the first chapter i thought it would just be Geralt, Jaskier and Roach. Bonding. Lots of fluff. Little smut. Ending in a happy family.... Well.. GUESS WHO FELL DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE. (who is boo boo the fool now?)  
> (i never should have let Geralt go to the mine, that's where this went sideways, It should have been a simple slowburn with lots of fluff and a little smut at the end T_T)  
> BUT!!! to be honest, despite the horrible turn of events. I can't say i regret this version. Some ideas just popped up that made everything much more interesting (and emotional). and i absolutely LOVE delving into the lore of my characters and creatures.  
> It also means the story will be a little longer then i had initially planned. I'm not sure if any of you would complain about that though. and i don't exactly know how long yet.  
> And lest i forget THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING. I will accept nothing else.  
> Although if it gets too long i may split this up into this and a sequel. BUT, That heavily depends on how the rest of the story goes.

* * *

Geralt was out like a light when they had made camp. Truth be told he was only able to sleep because Jaskier sat snuggled up against him. And later turned to lay down curled up against his large body. Geralt's body curled around the smaller form on instinct. Protecting it even in his sleep. By the time he woke, sunlight already seemed to shine through the trees. It was still morning, but late in the morning. He stretched himself, cringing a bit with the pain, stiffness and soreness. But he felt better none the less. Especially now that he was rid of the effects of the vermillion. Speaking of which...

During the stretch he noticed that the limbs he was reaching out with were no longer large and covered in fur. He had no paws anymore and a weight seemed to have lifted from his back. No more wings. His balance was off too. His tails were gone. He was back to normal again. Sighing he relaxed a little until his golden eyes shot wide open in realization. Transformation always left him stark naked. He quickly eyed down and to his surprise found he was covered with a black cape. The fabric felt smooth and thick. Nothing like Geralt had ever worn. He looked up and around the camp. His trusty firemare stood off to the side, next to him laid a lithe form in blue clothing softly asleep. _Jaskier.._ But he was still wearing his fur cape. Pulled around him like a blanket. Then he saw Cahir, on the other side of the fire. He was busy cooking a hare over the fire and he lacked the cape that now graced Geralt's naked body. 

"Jaskier brought your clothes, they're in the saddle bag. Your mare trusted me enough to look but not to touch. Can't blame her. She's loyal to you."

Cahir said as he cut a piece from the hare to check if it was done.

"you... no sleep?"

Geralt gestured to Cahir and his voice still had a heavy accent. But it made Cahir look appreciative of the politeness to him anyway. With the tension between them, Geralt could have simply ignored him. Instead he was asking if Cahir was okay. Geralt stood up, wrapping the cape around him to cover up and quickly made his way over to the saddlebags to get his clothes.

"I don't need much sleep. I slept a few hours. Figured i'd make breakfast. Is he-... Is he teaching you this language?"

Geralt paused in trying to hoist himself into his breeches and looked from Jaskier's sleeping form to Cahir and back.

"hmm"

He replied, nodding. 

"Ah, i see. He's a good teacher."

Geralt quickly worked himself into his clothes. He sat down on the opposite side of the fire, next to Jaskier. But he found that now that he was in human form again, the instinct to attack Cahir was a lot less present. Cahir gestured to the hare and Geralt gratefully took a piece. Winching slightly at the pain and soreness still in his body. The wounds had shifted along with him but were still present on his body. He sniffed at the hare, realizing how hungry he was. But before he took a bite, he looked up.

" _A ty skąd znasz naszą mowę?_ "

Geralt asked. He was still somewhat confused on what to make of Cahir. And he could speak in human tongue yes but he was a long way from a proper conversation with his as of yet, still lacking grammar. Cahir looked up, a thought drifted across his face, but it was one that Geralt couldn't place. 

"From an Obrońca Lasu. Like you. Well... Not entirely like you. As you are _Wilczy Obrońca_. And she was _Jeleni Obrońca_."

Geralt hummed softly. He had heard of others. Subspecies of the Obrońca. Obrońca Lasu was a gathering name for all of them. But they were very different at the core of their dna. Still, the knowledge of this didn't interest Geralt. What interested him was how Cahir was able to learn this.

"She?.... Deer... With you?"

Cahir squinted, trying to understand what Geralt was saying. For a moment it made Geralt look away and feel stupid for attempting a conversation in human tongue. The man spoke old language, it would be easier. But then Cahir replied.

"You mean.... Were we a pair? We were. I was hers, she was mine."

was.... Geralt looked back at Cahir. It seemed to trouble him obviously.

"Where.. now?"

"She's dead.. Stregobor killed her. Like he tried to kill you. He put her heart, in here..."

Geralt snarled a little at the name Stregobor but he paid attention when Cahir pointed to his own chest. So... that's why it felt so familiar. That's why he sensed Obrońca Lasu. That's why when Geralt was in beast form, instinct tried to take over to kill. Because of territory. And because it resembled the real thing up to a certain point. Fooling his senses.

" 'm .... sorry"

Geralt uttered softly. It made a lot of sense now. And perhaps he had been alone all his life, but he could quite imagine the pain of losing someone you loved. In a way it had felt like that when his mother had to cast him from her side when he came of age. She would have killed him otherwise. Not because she wanted too. But because her killing instincts would have been stronger then her maternal instincts. He could also quite imagine this pain when he compared it to the way he felt when he thought of losing Jaskier. He turned to the boy who was still asleep. He had done everything to protect Geralt. He had come after him. Without Jaskier, Geralt would have been in a lot more pain and trouble or perhaps even dead.

"I.... Thank you."

Cahir replied with a soft voice and a soft look. But he seemed more at ease now then he was yesterday. The emotions less heavy in his eyes and his aura. Then Geralt shook his head.

"No... Thank you."

He gestured to Jaskier.

"You save... You... hmmm.. help... Jaskier."

Cahir turned his eyes to Jaskier. He hummed softly while he too tore a piece of the hare to eat it.

"He reminded me of myself. I can tell he really cares for you. When i saw how Boholt tried to use him to stop you... I grew angry. I saw myself and i couldn't fail again. I wasn't able to save my Renfri. -The Obrońca who taught me to speak old language-. I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice."

"Renfri..."

Geralt repeated. By now he wasn't sure what was worse anymore, Knowing someone's name and losing them, or not knowing someone's name and killing them against your will. Geralt knew what that felt like. It had to be a lot like what Cahir might have been feeling. Perhaps the situation was different. But the loss was the same. Death affected everyone.

" _Piękne imię._ "

Cahir gained a small smile.

"Thank you. I guess you should wake him up. We've let most of the morning slip from our grasp."

Geralt turned to Jaskier to lay a hand on his shoulder, softly shaking him to wake him up. Jaskier's face scrunched up in the cutest way and he hummed as his eyes slowly opened. Geralt tilted his head. Somehow Jaskier's features had changed. As if the passed few days had left him a little older. More mature. Less boyish then the passed few months. Geralt wondered briefly when Jaskier's name day was. Until those blue eyes opened up and Geralt wasn't able to think at all. He felt like he was staring at the sky. The blue swirled with a mix of emotions. All passing one by one. Confusion, wonder, recognition, relief and finally... happiness. It shone so bright Geralt felt like he had to squint against the brightness. But he wasn't given a chance. Instantly Jaskier shot up and before the Obrońca fully realized what was going on, he had his arms full of Jaskier.

"Geralt? Geralt! You're back! You're back."

The boy hugged him, wrapping his arms around Geralt tightly and pressing his face against his chest. Geralt winched a little as Jaskier accidentally pressed on some wounds. Jaskier quickly let go of him. 

"oh sorry! sorry. Does it hurt? Can i-"

He didn't let the boy speak. He didn't think, he just knew he missed the warmth he just had in his arms and pulled it back in without pardon. He didn't care if it hurt. He had missed Jaskier terribly too. Even if they were together. It wasn't the same when he was a beast. He felt those arms wrap around him again, carefully this time. The head leaning against him left him hovering right above the mop of brown hair on top of Jaskier's head. The scent of him rose up into Geralt's senses and he closed his eyes to it. The beast within, though still as hurt as he was because they shared a body and thus physical pain, let out a satisfied purr. It curled up and rested. No cage, no bars, and yet simply content and peaceful within him. Rumbling with a recurring purr. Geralt felt happy. Happier then he had been in a long time. 

The warmth of the hug seeped into his being. It reached every part of him. From the tip of his horns all the way down to his toes. And into the deepest cells of his bones, pooling in the marrow of his spine. Settling in the pit of his stomach. It was laced with something odd, something... almost surreal. A sense of peace. They seemed to have been hugging for a while because on the other side of the fire Cahir softly cleared his throat. Geralt pulled back while he felt a bit of that lingering heat dance towards his cheeks and Jaskier pulled back wide eyed. 

"oh! Cahir. Sorry did i sleep too long?"

He wasn't even worried about the hugging. Instead his face lit up at the sight of breakfast. Jaskier turned to fish something out of his clothing. It glittered in the sunlight and Geralt knew what it was right away. His amulet. He had left it with Płotka when he turned into a beast. He hadn't found it between his clothes in her saddlebags so he assumed that she had lost it along the way. That it might have fallen from her pack when she bolted to get Jaskier. 

"I meant to give this back to you, but you were... well.. it didn't fit around your wolf's head. So i kept it with me. For safe keeping."

Jaskier took Geralt's hand and opened it, palm up to the sky and carefully placed the amulet in him. Cahir eyed it with interest but said nothing. Geralt looked up grateful. But then he realized, he was fine. Perfectly so. Despite being injured, what should only make this more difficult, he was actually fine around Jaskier. He wasn't wearing any of his relics. No mask, no special cloak -just one of the fur ones he made- and no amulet. The beast within him slept in peace and seemed calmer then ever in Jaskier's presence. Even with Cahir sitting on the other end of the fire, he was fine. He took the amulet and twisted it between his fingers in thought, then he looked at Jaskier, took it, and hung it around his neck.

"For you."

Jaskier's eyes widened and Cahir lowered his head with a knowing smile. Closing his eyes in acknowledgement. They were bonding. Even if Geralt didn't know it yet. Or Jaskier too for that matter. But they would have to figure that out themselves, in their own time, on their own terms. So Cahir didn't mention it. Jaskier felt the weight around his neck and his fingers traced the wolf's head on the amulet in wonder.

"But, it's yours! You always wear it! Don't you need this?"

Geralt shook his head.

"No. For you. You keep."

He felt that stubborn heat creep back to his face when Jaskier clasped both his hands over the amulet and pressed it to his heart. Smiling brighter then a ray of sunshine. 

"Thank you! I will always wear it."

* * *

After eating they cleaned up the camp site and went on their way. Geralt had -despite protesting- done as Jaskier asked him and taken place on Płotka's back. Because he was injured still, despite feeling a lot better and not being in beast form anymore, Jaskier still insisted he would not exhaust himself by walking. Płotka could easily carry them both, but Jaskier had refused to get on her back. Even when she nudged him. 

"Will you let Cahir ride too?"

He asked her. Płotka scraped her foot insulted and snorted at him. Jaskier had chuckled and shook his head. 

"Then i'm walking too. He's really not so bad." 

It took a bit of convincing but finally Płotka had let Jaskier introduce them. He had plucked one of Cahir's gloves from his hands and pulled his hand up to the air to let Płotka sniff him and get to know him. Finally, she seemed to be okay with his presence and had pushed her velvety nose against his hand. And he politely thanked her for her judgement which now laid in his favor. She was a real lady, Cahir had said as he pulled his glove back on. Still, it was by Cahir's own choice that he kept walking next to Płotka. She would tire too quickly if she had to carry three people. Not that she couldn't. She was far larger then any ordinary horse. Nearly twice their size, but Cahir didn't want to burden her with it. So he and Jaskier walked beside her while Geralt sat on her back. Jaskier chatted with Cahir and Geralt listened to their conversation in silence. All while his eyes from time to time caught a glimpse of shiny metal around Jaskier's neck. And it filled him with pride. 

"At this pace you might be home just after dark."

Cahir mentioned. They were closing in on their home. Geralt could tell. He recognized these meadows and woods. He knew them like the back of his hand. Their home was close now. It would take another few hours to travel there on foot. But Cahir had other plans. 

"Geralt, Catch this."

He said. Geralt turned to see Cahir pick up Jaskier with some effort and push him up next to Płotka. It was a little heavy for him since Jaskier was nearing his full grown body. And he certainly wasn't scrawny. But he managed, Geralt quickly hooked his hands under Jaskier's arms and pulled him in front of him on Płotka.

"Whoa hey Cahir! Wait. What are you doing?"

Jaskier asked him. Cahir looked up with a smile.

"We're good. I think Geralt understands me now. But we're close to your home and despite me only having the heart of his kind, i don't want to provoke him or test how bad it gets. Let's just say goodbye here."

Jaskier seemed to slump against Geralt who held onto him with an arm. A soft sadness rolled off of the boy. Oh this human... so easily attached. Geralt could only smile inwardly. He understood. But he also understood Cahir. And it was not his place to argue.

"Will we see you again?"

Jaskier asked softly. Cahir petted Płotka softly and earned a friendly snort from her before he stepped back.

"Who knows. I hope so. Meeting you has made my life... better. Stay out of trouble you two."

"We will try. And be careful Cahir. Please."

"I will."

Geralt and Jaskier watched as Cahir turned on his heel and walked back the way they came. They watched him until he disappeared in the distance after waving at them one more time. Geralt heard Jaskier sigh before him.

"I hope he's going to be okay." Then the boy looked up at him.

"Shall we go home then?"

Geralt let a smile roll onto his face and hummed. 

"Hmm.. Home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *And where did you learn our old language?  
> Wolf Guardian.  
> Deer Guardian.  
> Beautiful name.
> 
> (Cahir will be back. Just like we haven't seen the last of Stregobor yet. But we'll settle down with the boys for now)


	23. Chapter 23

Despite having dreamed of the things that happened the day before, Jaskier felt as if he had never slept better. Tucked away against the soft warm fur of Geralt's larger beast form. The wolf curled around him. He still felt drowsy and sleepy as something in the air shifted. It grew a little colder so he cuddled up further against the heat at his back. Then he fell prey to dreams again. He dreamed of blood and weapons, of a sword at his neck and feral golden eyes that called out to him. _Trust me. I will protect you. I won't let anyone hurt you. Never again._ That's what the eyes seemed to say without speaking and yet Jaskier heard every word. Then the bad and dark parts of the dream subsided and Jaskier dreamed of the Garden. Of the cave. Of Płotka and of their home. He dreamed of sunshine and white fur. He dreamed of cold stream water and golden eyes. Then the dream slowly faded as he felt a pressure on his shoulder, softly shaking him to bring him back to the waking world.

Daylight was already bright enough to let Jaskier squint against it. Everything seemed blurry for a moment, but when they came into focus Jaskier's eyes widened in surprise. Geralt was hovering over him. And certainly not in the way Jaskier left him when they went to sleep. He had expected a larger wolf's head, white fur, tails and wings. But what he saw was pale skin, white hair, a face with piercing golden eyes staring back at him. Geralt had returned to his original form. The realization hit Jaskier like lightning. It struck, instantly spreading a blooming warmth within his chest. Happiness bursting in sparks from his being. 

"Geralt? Geralt! You're back! You're back."

Jaskier didn't think twice. He surged up to wrap his arms around the Obrońca in front of him. His arms fit around the man whereas when he was a beast, he was far too large to embrace wholly. Not that it mattered. Jaskier pressed his face into Geralt's chest. It wasn't that the latter had been really gone. But interacting with a wolf who could not speak was very much different from a man who tried his best to speak. And though Jaskier liked the wolf just as much, he had been so worried that all of it seemed a bit surreal until he saw Geralt's face again. After all, he had parted with the Obrońca as a man. And now he could be reunited with him. Geralt winched a bit under Jaskier's tight hug and Jaskier realized that Geralt was still injured from the day before and Jaskier was pressing on his wounds.

"oh sorry! sorry. Does it hurt? Can i-"

Before he could even finish talking, Geralt had grabbed him and pulled him back into the embrace. The Obrońca wrapped his arms around Jaskier. Tight and warm. Jaskier almost wanted to protest because of Geralt's injuries, but he heard a soft rumble and a chin settle on his head. It made him smile and close his eyes. Snuggling into the warmth of the embrace. Jaskier let his head rest against Geralt's chest. The strong echo of a heartbeat drumming deep within the ribcage he was resting on made Jaskier feel at ease. It pushed life through Geralt's being with each of it's strong beats. It sounded soothing. Jaskier felt safe here. Protected. Warm and wanted. Unlike how his village had made him feel. Geralt didn't push him away, but pulled him closer. Jaskier would stay in these strong arms forever if he could. It felt so nice to be held like this. 

Somewhere by the fire someone cleared his throat and Jaskier's eyes snapped open again. He pulled away from Geralt with a light blush, remembering they were in company.

"oh! Cahir. Sorry did i sleep too long?"

It was already light after all. And Jaskier was pretty sure he had slept through most of the morning. Then again, he was exhausted from everything that happened yesterday so... perhaps it wasn't bad that he slept longer just this once. Cahir chuckled but he shook his head and then offered Jaskier breakfast. The boy ate it happily, having gotten quite hungry. He sat up and felt something heavy in his pocket. Right! The amulet. He had put it on when he took Płotka to find Geralt. But before the fight broke out he had put it in his pocket, afraid of losing it otherwise. He had totally forgotten about it until he felt the weight of it against him. Besides, it's not like he could have given it back earlier. The necklace was a single chain without opening, It wouldn't have fit around Geralt's head as a wolf anyway.

"I meant to give this back to you, but you were... well.. it didn't fit around your wolf's head. So i kept it with me. For safe keeping."

Jaskier turned the amulet over in his hand and then reached out. Grabbing Geralt's hand to put the metal piece in his palm. He didn't really know what significance this had or how important it was to Geralt. Or even what it did. Maybe it was just an amulet, maybe it had some properties Jaskier wasn't aware of. He just knew that for as long as he had stayed with Geralt, he had always seen the latter wear it. Geralt twisted it between his clawed hands and then shook his head, turning to slip the chain of it around Jaskier's neck. It felt heavy as it came to rest on Jaskier's chest. Right over his heart where the metal seemed warm against him. 

"For you."

Geralt replied. Jaskier looked up at him with wide eyes while his fingers traced the wolf on the amulet.

"But, it's yours! You always wear it! Don't you need this?"

Geralt shook his head.

"No. For you. You keep."

It was hard to describe what Jaskier felt in that moment. Pure sunshine and happiness. Pure warmth and something that tingled in his entire being. He smiled brighter then ever before when he replied. 

"Thank you! I will always wear it."

* * *

After they cleaned up camp they went on their way. Geralt was still injured so Jaskier insisted he'd take a ride on Płotka. He wouldn't take no for an answer and so the Obrońca climbed on the mare's back because there was simply no room for argument. Jaskier did however exchange a short argument with Płotka. Who still seemed rather picky in her company keeping and wouldn't allow Cahir on her back. Jaskier understood. Perhaps three people was a bit much to carry. And besides, they hadn't know Cahir for that long. Despite Jaskier trusting him, especially after he shared his story, it took Płotka a bit more convincing then that. Which was fine. Geralt had already in little words been able to tell Jaskier she was picky on the company. It was an odd thing that Płotka and Jaskier became such good friends in such a short time then. But Jaskier decided he shouldn't question his formed friendship with the firemare. It was after all a rare bond that didn't often occur. Definitely not with humans.

While he and Cahir walked beside the mare, Jaskier made a conversation with Cahir. He made an attempt to avoid brushing personal subjects since it had been hard for Cahir to share his story. But they managed small talk and speaking about the things they enjoyed. Jaskier shared his former wish to become a bard and his love for music and Lute playing. Cahir shared some of the exotic and rare creatures he had seen on his hunts and despite having that sad look in his eyes when he spoke of her, he talked of some of the things that Renfri had taught him in the time they were together. That's how he learned Geralt's language too. He smiled when he spoke of how patient Renfri had been with him when he was stuck on the pronunciation of a word that he couldn't get right. And how she let him on her back once and they wandered through the woods until they landed in a herd of deer that had all curiously come to greet her. Speaking about her seemed to do him some good.

After a while of silence to follow their conversation, Cahir spoke up once again.

"At this pace you might be home just after dark."

He seemed to sense it somehow. Jaskier wondered if there was a particular way Obrońca Lasu marked there territory. If others could sense it like that, it had to be something that another Obrońca could pick up on.

"Geralt, Catch this."

Suddenly Jaskier felt two hands around him, lifting him off his feet and towards Geralt who sat on Płotka's back. 

"Whoa hey Cahir! Wait. What are you doing?"

Jaskier asked him. Cahir looked up with a smile.

"We're good. I think Geralt understands me now. But we're close to your home and despite me only having the heart of his kind, i don't want to provoke him or test how bad it gets. Let's just say goodbye here."

Jaskier slumped against Geralt. Honestly he could have expected this, but he still felt a bit disappointed that Cahir wasn't going to stay longer. Perhaps it was for the best. For his safety as well as Geralt's safety. But... The man had been through so much, and he helped them. He shouldn't have to go through his life all alone. After everything that happened to him he deserved better. Still... Jaskier knew there wasn't much he could do about it. He could only wish him well.

"Will we see you again?"

Jaskier asked softly. Cahir petted Płotka softly and earned a friendly snort from her before he stepped back.

"Who knows. I hope so. Meeting you has made my life... better. Stay out of trouble you two."

"We will try. And be careful Cahir. Please."

"I will."

Geralt and Jaskier watched as Cahir turned on his heel and walked back the way they came. They watched him until he disappeared in the distance after waving at them one more time. Jaskier sighed as he watched the figure grow smaller and smaller only to disappear on the path.

"I hope he's going to be okay." Jaskier mumbled. Then he looked up behind him, smiling at Geralt.

"Shall we go home then?"

Geralt let a smile roll onto his face in return and hummed. 

"Hmm.. Home."

Never had a word sounded so welcoming. Even to Jaskier. Płotka resumed her pace but soon increased it little by little until it was a moderate pace. Trotting over the familiar path back to their home. Cahir had been right, they arrived just after dark. Jaskier let out a relieved sigh as the cave came into view. Everything still seemed to be the way he left it. Even the saddlebags he had taken from Płotka's back in a hurry still laid on the ground where he dropped them. Only little critters and forest animals had scurried around the bags curiously in search for food. Płotka halted before the entrance and slowly let herself drop through her legs. Laying down near the entrance. She never came in but sometimes instead of going back to her meadow she'd linger around the entrance and lay down to sleep there. It seemed she was planing to do the same thing now.

* * *

Jaskier let himself slide off her back and walked over to collect the bags. They were quite heavy. Geralt followed and tried to take the bags from him but Jaskier pushed his hands down. 

"I can do it. You can start a fire. It's less straining work. Finally i have the things i need to dress your wounds."

"hmm"

hummed Geralt. It sounded a little like amusement but also as something grateful. Jaskier struggled but managed to get the bags inside and checked the cave for critters and other small animals. Luckily they hadn't been curious or brave enough to raid the pantry. Everything was still as it was when he left it. With a little effort they started a fire and Jaskier collected the salve that Geralt had given him before to heal the bite on his shoulder. He hoped it would have the same healing properties for Geralt's wounds. Jaskier took Geralt by a hand and let him sit down by the fire. Hesitating when he eyed the dark colored shirt Geralt had on. 

"Ehm... You need to.. take it off. So i can tend to your wounds."

Jaskier bit his lip a little. It was just about the same amount Geralt had seen of him before. But now that the roles were reversed it made Jaskier a little nervous. Geralt looked up in silence, but then he nodded and slowly reached for the hem of his shirt. He eyed Jaskier once more, perhaps for certainty. Jaskier couldn't tell. But then he pulled the fabric over his head. Shifting a little with signs of discomfort. Jaskier sat down before him and put the salve down. His eyes slowly sweeping over the exposed skin. Jaskier understood where the hesitation on Geralt's part was coming from. And the worried look he now had in his eyes. Just like that one time when Jaskier finally took the mask off of him. Geralt's pale skin was far from flawless. In fact it was marred in many places. Scars littering his skin. Telling stories that Jaskier had not yet heard. It looked like Geralt had fought many battles. While in reality Jaskier knew it just meant that Geralt had survived all of these attempts on his life just because he was Obrońca Lasu. It made Jaskier feel sad for him. He knew somewhere that Geralt had suffered, but only now did he get a hint of how much.

Jaskier reached out to a deep gash on Geralt's shoulder. Next to is was a scar, round and rigged. It looked like something punctured him there. An arrow? A crossbow bolt maybe. Those were thicker. Jaskier softly let his fingers map out the circle. Geralt's eyes turned a bit sad as he lowered his head. 

"I'm sorry... It must have hurt a lot."

Jaskier whispered softly. Geralt turned his head to look at him and nodded. Jaskier took the salve and slowly started to apply it to the fresh wounds. Careful as he could so he wouldn't have to hurt Geralt. In between taking care of the new wounds, Jaskier's fingers brushed over old wounds. One of them even seemed to be a set of human teeth. Jaskier shuddered when he thought someone would bite Geralt hard enough to make it bleed and scar. It made him angry. All because people misunderstood or were afraid or simply wanted to hurt others because they were the real monsters in this world. Sometimes he really wished he wasn't human. When he finished dressing Geralt's injuries, they ate in silence. Comfortable silence. They sat close, knees brushing. Never wanting to be too far apart. 

Jaskier looked up when Geralt made ready to go to bed and nearly took it as an insult when the Obrońca automatically moved to his bed in the corner. Jaskier let out a soft whine of protest and looked up with pleading eyes. 

"Will you stay next to me? The nightmares may come back otherwise."

Honestly that was only half the truth. The other half was that Jaskier knew Geralt's bed was just a carpet of furs laid directly onto the cold rocky floor. While Jaskier's bed was raised on a wooden platform. It was much more comfortable, warmer and better for someone who had recently been injured to rest on. That and.. of course the nightmare thing. That was a real issue too. Jaskier felt safe the night before because he had been able to cuddle up to Geralt's wolf form. If he had to sleep alone again, he feared of what he might see in his dreams. Besides, Geralt had nightmares almost every night before this too. Maybe they could both catch a break this time.

Geralt seemed to hesitate but then he gathered up the furs of his bed and added them around those of Jaskier's bed. Making the bed a little wider. Geralt laid down to sleep and Jaskier tucked himself in on his side. It wasn't long until he found himself turning towards the source of head behind him and curl up against Geralt's chest. And vaguely, before sleep claimed him completely, he swore he could feel an arm drape over his body. And the nightmares? They stayed away. 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Honestly i hadn't planned for this to get so emotional near the end. But i realized i had a plot hole from before that i wanted to bring to a close. Because it's also very important to Jaskier and Geralt bonding. Especially for Geralt. The poor thing finally deserves to think more of himself then the hopeless monster he believed he was. I also blame the fact that i haven't slept much. Just saying. Stay safe and grab tissues!

There was something flowing through Geralt's body when he set sight on his home again. It was a mix of relief, happiness and a few other things. He had never been so happy to see this place again. Before Jaskier, this was just the place where he lived. He never considered it a place he belonged. He just lived here because this was the best places for him. With exception of the village below who had been afraid of him the moment he made his house here. He never really enjoyed the solitude though. He was lonely. But even though it had been odd at first, and living with Jaskier had been and would be trial and error. It made it so much more bearable. He only realized now that he followed the boy to the saddlebags that laid forgotten on the floor, that he had come to see this as a home now. Thanks to the miracle made flesh standing in front of him. Jaskier was so incredibly different from other humans. Geralt couldn't tell how or why. He just knew it had been his saving grace. 

Jaskier seemed to struggle with the bags but as Geralt reached out to take them the boy declined his help. 

"I can do it. You can start a fire. It's less straining work. Finally i have the things i need to dress your wounds."

Ever so thoughtful... and stubborn. Geralt smiled.

"hmm"

Instead he collected the empty saddlebags from Płotka's back and brought them inside so she would be free to do as she pleased. While he put them away Jaskier moved through the cave to find a familiar jar of healing Salve that Geralt had given him before. Odd how the roles were switched now. But back then, it was Geralt's fault Jaskier got hurt. Geralt being hurt now was not Jaskier's fault. If anything the boy managed to save him somehow. It seemed like he was always doing that. Saving him. Geralt realized it fully well. He was being saved in more ways then one. And Jaskier probably didn't even know he was doing it. 

"Ehm... You need to.. take it off. So i can tend to your wounds."

Geralt heard Jaskier say. He looked at his shirt. Of course. His injuries underneath needed tending. Geralt reached for the hem but hesitated. His mind drifted back towards the time when Jaskier finally saw Geralt's face. When the mask came off and he had been so uncomfortable because he had no idea how Jaskier was going to react. Geralt felt self conscious. And again now, when he was about to reveal a new part of himself, he couldn't tell if Jaskier's reaction was going to be the same. His body was scarred. Marred by bad memories and traumatizing experiences. Often these battles had been for his life. To survive the hostility and violence of the people that tried to kill him. Beneath these fresh wounds were old wounds. Centuries worth of anger, fear, disappointment and feeling powerless. He never had a choice. They always came at him. Ignoring every warning, every snarl and every step back to attempt to create distance between them. They never chose to leave. And Geralt never chose to die. The result was bloody and awful and added new scars to the old ones. Every single time. What would Jaskier think? If he counted the battle scars, the attempts on Geralt's life, the nightmares Geralt had been having...

With a deep breath Geralt pulled the shirt slowly over his head. Despite having that very image in his head of Jaskier's reaction to seeing his face for the first time, Geralt was still tense. _There you are._ He could still hear it in his head. But one scar near his left eye was a lot different from all the marred pieces of skin littered over his body. So he braced himself and sat down where Jaskier could reach him. And he convinced himself it was going to be okay. He didn't expect complete silence. Jaskier didn't let out even a single gasp. Neither shock nor horror left the boy audibly. And it gave Geralt hope that maybe this would be like the time the mask came off. Maybe he needed to stop telling himself to be afraid of how Jaskier was going to react. After all... he wasn't like other people. Jaskier was different. So incredibly different and yet so good that Geralt didn't understand him at all. 

Geralt turned his head when Jaskier reached up to a deep scar that once had been a wooden bolt that pierced him there. The hunter who shot it had chosen weak wood on purpose. It made the bolt shatter upon impact and create more damage with a single bolt then five arrows would have done. It had been pure hell to remove all the splinters. Geralt tried not to think about it. But he knew the story to each of his own scars. And it was difficult not to think of the cause when Jaskier's tender fingers feathered over a scar as if it was still fresh. It made Geralt feel something akin to a deep melancholy. Bittersweet. As if he wanted to cry but his eyes did not water.

"I'm sorry... It must have hurt a lot."

The words wormed their way in deeper then any blade or bolt or arrow ever had. But they weren't cutting. They were soft. So soft. Geralt forgot how to breathe. He let the words settle in his mind. In his being. In his heart. He had no idea why Jaskier was apologizing. He hadn't caused any of this. But the fact that he did, and was sympathetic towards Geralt moved the Obrońca deeply. He turned his head to reply. He wanted to say _Not anymore._ or _it's okay now_. But when he caught the gaze in Jaskier's eyes, not a single word left him. He could only nod as those blue eyes seemed to swirl with just as much emotion as Geralt felt running within himself. Geralt sat there for the remainder of the treatment. Deeply in awe at how careful Jaskier was with him. As if he could break if Jaskier wasn't careful enough. By the time Jaskier was done, Geralt felt warmth running everywhere. It had seeped into his bones, his heart, the beast that laid purring inside. And he realized he didn't have to feel anxious about it anymore. He didn't have to feel ashamed. It made him feel content.

When his wounds were dressed, Geralt made ready to go to bed. He was pretty sure they could both use some rest. He didn't really think about what he was doing. Sleeping near the wall had become a bit of a habit and he only caught himself in the pending separation when Jaskier stopped him. 

"Will you stay next to me? The nightmares may come back otherwise."

The pleading blue eyes and the soft whine were more then enough to convince Geralt of changing sleeping places. He had been out of his own bed for long enough. And maybe Jaskier was right. Maybe this would help guard his dreams. Geralt took up the furs from his separate bed and used it to make the original bed wider. After how Jaskier treated him, being confronted with his scars and his feral nature as a beast and everything, Geralt felt he could easily share a bed with the boy now. He trusted Jaskier. The boy was still here. Despite everything that had happened. He was still here. That thought made Geralt doze off with a small smile playing on his face. Sleep slowly came to take him away, but before he reached dreamland completely he felt a shift and a weight settle against him. On near instinct, Geralt curled around it. Protectively resting an arm over Jaskier's form to hold him close and keep him safe. No nightmare would dare to come to him tonight.

* * *

With summer well on the way, the air started to get warmer. It woke Geralt along with the sunshine peeking through the entrance. He huffed and took a deep breath, immediately his lungs were filled with the sweet savory scent of buttercups and pine. Subconscious a smile made it to his face. _Jaskier..._ That scent.. Geralt would recognize it anywhere. A warm weight shifted in his arms, softly groaning. Geralt cracked an eye open and glanced down. Jaskier was curled up against his chest. Hiding his face into the warmth of Geralt's body, allowing Geralt a view from above to his mop of brown hair and his peaceful sleeping face. Geralt's smile grew a little wider and he closed his eyes again. Ignoring the sunlight flooding the entrance floor. They got home late, so sleeping in wouldn't be so bad. Besides, Geralt still felt sore and ached in the places that Jaskier had treated. His wounds were healing, faster then a human's but still not fast enough to save him from the ache. It would take a couple of days and some new scars would form. While a human would perhaps take a week and a half to heal and be left with more visible reminders of the villain's work. 

Geralt's calm breathing made Jaskier snuggle a bit closer in his sleep. A hand coming up to clutch at Geralt's shirt. Geralt still had an arm draped over the boy. They laid like that for a while until Jaskier stirred. Scrunching up his face in the cutest way just before he woke. He yawned and wrinkled his nose and slowly opened up his beautiful blue eyes. Frowning as he was met with a solid chest. Geralt tried to push down the chuckle that rose at the sight, but stubbornly a small huff still left him through his nose. Jaskier's eyes followed the sound up to Geralt's face and the frown disappeared. Replaced by a tired smile. His messy bed hair surrounded his head like the petals of a flower surrounded the heart, and Geralt was overcome with the urge to just stay in bed all day. Just like this. 

"Good Morning."

Jaskier mumbled.

"Hmm."

Geralt hummed back while his eyes slid to a close again. He felt Jaskier shift which made him release a little groan in protest. As if he wanted to say _Just a little longer._ Jaskier's light chuckle fluttered into Geralt's ears as the boy crawled up a little and settled on eye height. Geralt's arm still draped over his side. 

"Geralt." Jaskier whispered softly.

"Hmm"

"Time to get up."

"Hmm"

Geralt hummed but he refused to move or open up his eyes. Jaskier once again chuckled softly and he shifted a little. Geralt didn't see what he was doing, but a shiver brushed his body when he felt Jaskier's soft fingertips connect to his temple. They caressed him softly. Rubbing soothing circles on the small patch of skin there. Then those fingertips took off to wander slowly into his hair, settling on the base of his horns. The warm and soft pads were spreading warmth and pressure on the roughened bony surface. Geralt kept his eyes closed, focused on the feeling. Jaskier seemed to be exploring every ridge and dent and structure of the horns. Slowly sliding his fingers over the surface as if he wished to map them out and create an image in his head he wouldn't forget. It melted Geralt completely. Tingling settling into his spine, reaching every fiber of his being. His limbs felt like liquid, resulting in his further inability to move. He couldn't get up even if he wanted to. Which he didn't. He could stay like this forever. 

"Don't fall asleep on me now."

He heard Jaskier giggle softly. Geralt couldn't stop his mouth corners from curling up but still he refused to do anything but hum. He kept his eyes closed, focused solely on the feeling of Jaskier's fingertips on his horns and the soft voice speaking, whispering, from time to time. 

"There really is no waking you is there?"

The boy huffed softly. Geralt was about to let out another _hmm_ when finally, his eyes opened in surprise. There was a warm soft weight settling against his head. Right on the front of it, above his eyes. Jaskier, the sneaky little thing had leaned in. And like the kiss pressed on his nose when he was a wolf, he was now being kissed on his head. A soothing and affectionate gesture and yet such a surprise at the same time. It tingled, and when Jaskier pulled back the boy appeared to have a light blush dusted over his cheeks. Geralt felt that same kind of heat dancing on his own features as he held the gaze of those blue eyes with his golden ones.

"There. That got you up."

Jaskier showed one of his dazzling smiles. Making his blue eyes brighter then the sky outside. Geralt could get lost in them within seconds if he allowed himself to. He huffed in fake protest but he pushed himself up to sit. Groaning at the ache in certain parts of his body. Jaskier took it upon himself to fix them both breakfast in bed. They ate in silence, listening to the birds outside and the soft rustling of the breeze through the entrance greenery. It was a good start of a good day.

* * *

The first few days, Jaskier wouldn't allow Geralt to do any heavy lifting. They picked up on their life again, working on little chores until they were both fit enough again to take on a bit project such as the garden. They settled back into their routine with ease, and yet with a few additions that made the whole routine more comfortable. Jaskier tended to the Obrońca's wounds, Geralt still made dinner and Jaskier played his Lute. But when it was time to sleep they both curled up in the same bed, Geralt would drape an arm over the boy and Jaskier would tuck himself away against Geralt's larger body. In the mornings, Jaskier made them breakfast and woke Geralt with a kiss on his head. The Obrońca refused to get up otherwise. He was completely hopeless and he knew it, and yet Jaskier indulged him and played along. Always with a smile and a warmth that reached deep within Geralt. Touching parts of him that had been cold and alone for centuries. 

Within a few days the worst of Geralt's injuries had healed. Like he predicted it left a set of at least three fresh scars while the rest of the wounds faded without a trace. They finally got around to building the fence around the garden. It had been a relief when every thing was in place and they even had some materials left. At least they wouldn't have to go get some and repeat that horrible adventure all over again. Jaskier had taken a good look at their surroundings and made a list of plants they could use to make a hedge along the wooden fence, so the garden wouldn't stick out around these parts like a sore thumb but be a secret that would go up in the landscape instead. They had been working all day to gather plants and bushes from random spots in the woods so the relocated plants wouldn't all disappear from one area.

They had a single side done. Having to follow up on the other three in the coming days. It was a lot of work, but with every step along the way Geralt could see this place take shape and form a better image then anything he had created before. Jaskier was a natural. Then again given he grew up on a farm did have it's advantages. In the mean time, Geralt kept his language lessons up. Trying more and more often to speak to Jaskier in human language to try and familiarize himself with the sounds and shapes of the words. Sometimes his grammar was still off, but he was getting a lot better. It just proved once again how Jaskier worked to improve Geralt's life step by step. Geralt would never allow himself to forget that. He was happy. Truly happy. Like his sins might finally be forgiven. 

* * *

They had been working on the second part of the hedge when they ran out of greenery to plant. Jaskier suggested they would go look for more and Geralt had been quick to agree. Together they wandered off to a different area where they hadn't plucked from before. Looking around for more, Geralt suddenly remembered where they were exactly. He had been so occupied with everything else. The whole fight in Sodden Keep, Jaskier being in his life and the Garden that he had completely forgotten about this place. The Graveyard. Usually he would come up here once a month at least to remember the girls who died at his hand. He'd lay flowers at each of their graves as an apology for not knowing their names and not being able to bury them properly. He made it a point to come back here. Except... with Jaskier he had completely forgotten about it. It had been 6 months now since Jaskier came into his life. Half a year and already he had forgotten all those who came before. A part of him felt guilty for forgetting. But the other part in him told him that it was okay. He was moving on. He didn't have to beat himself up over it anymore. He wasn't struggling like he used to. Jaskier had unified him and the beast inside him somehow. It was much easier to cope then it every had been.

Jaskier was idly chatting away, skipping ahead when he turned around. Geralt had stopped walking, lost in his thoughts and looked up at the boy. Jaskier tilted his head.

"Geralt? Is something wrong?"

 _Wrong?... no.. Would you remember.. when you asked me what happened to those other girls?_ Geralt shook his head and closed the distance between them. 

"No. Not wrong... I have... I have a place..."

Geralt sighed, looking for the right words. _How do you tell someone you want to show them a graveyard?_ It wasn't exactly an easy thing to say.

"I show you."

He took Jaskier by the hand. Somehow it seemed like Jaskier understood this was a difficult subject for Geralt. Or he had sensed the mood shift. In any case, he was quiet, nodded and let Geralt take him by the hand to guide him. Geralt felt his footsteps grow heavier the closer he got and he squeezed Jaskier's hand a little. Before they reached the tree arc that marked the entrance, Geralt turned to Jaskier.

"Remember... Remember you asked... ehm... what happened to... to other girls."

Jaskier visibly tried to think back on the questions he had asked and then replied.

"Oh! That's right. The other girls they ehm... gave to you."

 _Gave... such a mild way of putting_ it. Geralt thought, but he nodded.

"They... ehm... here."

Geralt said softly. He waved a hand towards the tree arc and Jaskier followed the direction with his gaze. He looked back at Geralt and then back at the arc again and slowly walked towards it. Geralt dreaded this moment. He felt hollow and heavy at the same time. The pit of his stomach twisted thinking about how Jaskier could have been one of them. Thank the heavens he was not. Geralt followed. Not really wanting to set foot in there now, but he knew he had to. He needed to. He needed Jaskier to see. He needed someone to see and to understand. To bare witness and possibly to be able to forgive him. The silence between them was deafening and he followed Jaskier until the latter stood still before the first row of the graves.

"A-are these..." Jaskier's voice cracked and he cleared his throat before he continued. "All of them?"

Geralt shook his head.

"I got.. better. Carried them away.. To south side path. Told them to run. But sometimes... wolf comes out."

Geralt felt his slow heart speed up with anxiety. Hammering away in the tension of the moment. Jaskier let his eyes slide over the wooden headstones. Making out the years in which these graves had been dug. He caught sight of another one and walked to the third row.

"This one's different."

He said pointing out the grave.

"Was a boy."

Geralt replied with a painful look in his eyes. Jaskier looked up with slightly widened eyes. The message in them was as clear as Geralt's thoughts had been. _That could have been you._ But then Jaskier did something that surprised Geralt, even if he should have known by now that Jaskier never acted or reacted like any normal human would. He came up to Geralt and wrapped his arms around the larger male. Jaskier hugged him tightly, squeezing a little as he spoke:

"You know this isn't your fault right? None of this is your fault Geralt. You couldn't help it. You didn't want this. None of it. I understand that now. And this... look at this place. You _care._ You buried them. You didn't know their names but you were ready to remember them for the rest of your life. I don't care what anyone says, you're not a monster!"

Half way through Jaskier's urgent speech, Geralt's eyes had started to water. Jaskier was right. Geralt knew he was right. And yet to hear it from the boy like that made Geralt break down in relief and emotions that had been pent up for years. It took away all his strength. And Geralt crashed through his legs, sitting in front of Jaskier on his knees. Jaskier refused to let go. He took Geralt's head and cradled it to his own chest. Geralt embraced the boy. Holding onto him tightly and he cried. Jaskier stroke a hand through Geralt's white hair, holding him close. Then Jaskier tilted Geralt's head, forcing him to look up into Jaskier's blue orbs. They were ablaze. A fire within them so bright it was almost unbearable to hold that gaze.

"This is not your fault. You. Are. Not. A monster."

The look in Jaskier's eyes gave absolutely no room for argument. The boy wouldn't except anything else and Geralt knew it. All he could do was croak out in ancient language, human language forgotten for a moment.

" _Dziękuję_. _Nie wiem, co bym bez Ciebie zrobił. Dziękuję._ "

Geralt's golden eyes were brimming with tears, they slipped down his cheeks. _Forgive me._ They said. He had forgotten to speak in words that Jaskier could understand, but in that moment Jaskier's burning eyes softened and a light hit them which told Geralt he understood. He had heard the words and he understood. Without another word, Jaskier leaned in and pressed his lips to Geralt's head. Soft and tender like he always did in the mornings. But this time with a much deeper meaning: _There is nothing to forgive._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Thank you. I don't know what i'd do without you. Thank you.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: this chapter is a little longer. I'm trying different things, to see if this works for me. This chapter has more background things and fluff. and i will be moving on with the story with possibly a bit more time skips. Because i realized i still have a lot of things to write and i'm already on 25 chapters. And i didn't mean for this to be a day-by-day fic. So.. not sure whether that makes me go 'yay' or 'yikes'.
> 
> OH! I almost forgot to mention. I HAVE FAN ART. Chapter 2 now has a lovely piece of art work created by Teddylacroix. Go check it out!

* * *

Warmth surrounded Jaskier when he felt something stir beside him. He felt drowsy and it was still hard for him to open his eyes. Even though he felt well rested. He huffed and scrunched up his face to battle the itch on his nose before he struggled to slowly open up his eyes. He was met with the sight of a chest clad in a black shirt. Jaskier frowned. That wasn't usually the sight he woke up to. He heard a huff coming from somewhere above him and his eyes followed the sound. He was met with Geralt's face and the frown disappeared from Jaskier's face to be replaced with a smile. He remembered. He had asked Geralt not to sleep separately from him. To keep the nightmares at bay. And it looked as if this tactic had worked out for the both of them. Geralt looked less tired then before. 

"Good morning."

Jaskier said with that smile on his face. Light was pouring through the entrance, The reflection of it on the ground made Geralt look bathed in something ethereal. Like a star glowing. His white hair and horns reflected in a way that made it seem like the light was coming from them instead of outside. And those gold molten eyes looked at him with affection before they slid to a close as their owner replied with a simple hum.

"Hmm"

Oh? Back to that now, were they? Jaskier grinned. Finding it amusing how familiar that sounded and yet it was even more amusing now because it wasn't for the lack of communication, but simply chosen as a lazy answer. A reply with little effort. As if he didn't want to make more effort because he didn't want to let Jaskier think he was ready to get up. Well too bad. They were awake now. It was already later in the morning then other mornings they would wake up and get to work. So whether Geralt wanted to or not, Jaskier decided it was time to get up. The Obrońca however simply refused to move. Jaskier crawled up a bit to level his face with Geralt's.

"Geralt."

"Hmm." 

"Time to get up."

"Hmm."

It sounded half like an 'okay' and half like a tired protest. Jaskier's grin grew wider as he looked at the Obrońca's sleepy face. Geralt looked peaceful like this. Calm, trusting. Dozing off in Jaskier's presence. The boy let his eyes roam over Geralt's features. His brows, eyes, nose, lips, jaw... the scar that ran above his left eye. In the light it was a bit more visible but it wasn't like your eyes were pulled to it the minute you saw it. Jaskier shifted, reaching out with his hand to carefully set his fingertips on Geralt's temple. His skin was warm to the touch. Geralt didn't move, just huffed through his nose like he let out a deep breath and let Jaskier do what he wanted. The level of trust that portrayed touched Jaskier deeply. He moved on, carding his fingers in the white strands of Geralt's hair. He noted that it needed to be brushed, some of the strands were tangled. He didn't stop there however. Jaskier let his fingers trail up towards the white bony surface of the horns. He felt the ridges under his fingers and was fascinated by them. He mapped them out carefully. As if he was trying to copy every inch into his mind. From the base to the tip. Feeling the differences between them.

The two front ones were a bit larger then the two in the back. The one on the front left was a tiny amount smoother then the right one. Where as the right one had a little dent near the tip that the left one didn't have. The two in the back were roughly the same except for the right one, which was broken and missed it's tip. The broken edges were no longer sharp. They had dulled with time, which also indicated that some time had passed after the event. Jaskier wondered how much time had passed and how old Geralt was exactly. How long had he been up here all by himself? Jaskier had never been alone for very long. Even when Geralt left. The longest he had ever been alone was about a week. He couldn't imagine how bad it must have been to be alone for years and years on end. Geralt's breathing seemed to even out under the touch and it made Jaskier feel light and happy. The Obrońca looked so sweet like this. 

"Don't fall asleep on me now."

Jaskier giggled softly. Geralt's lips curled into a smile but he refused to do anything but hum. His eyes wouldn't open and he continued to enjoy the touch of Jaskier's fingertips. The boy shook his head. Sighing softly he brushed some hair out of Geralt's face.

"There is no waking you is there?"

Jaskier huffed. After which he immediately was hit with an idea. An idea that made his stomach flutter and his heart race. But he was going to do it. Before he could change his mind he leaned in and pressed his lips to Geralt's head. A sweet and soft kiss. Affectionate and pure. Which made the heat raise to Jaskier's cheeks when he pulled back. Geralt looked at him with soft surprise in his golden eyes. And even if his face would start hurting from it, Jaskier couldn't keep his smile down. It only grew wider.

"There. That got you up."

Geralt huffed softly but his face betrayed happiness and amusement and even a light dust of blushing. He sat up and Jaskier threw together some breakfast for them to eat. He'd have to make sure Geralt wouldn't work too hard today, so his wounds would have time to heal. But that was of later concern. For now, the morning was perfect.

* * *

Several days went by in which Jaskier wouldn't let Geralt do anything that could possibly strain his wounds or slow the healing process. They settled into a comfortable routine where every night Jaskier would take care of Geralt's wounds. Each night he was confronted with the same scars. And each night he wondered about them. But he didn't ask. He wanted Geralt to share these things with him on his own terms. When he was ready. Geralt would fix them dinner. Mostly from the pantry, as the only thing he was able to get yet was fish from down stream where the stream turned into a river. He hadn't been able to hunt just yet. But it was fine. They still had enough in the pantry. As long as they didn't empty it before winter they would be fine. But it was summer now, winter was a while away.

Before dinner Jaskier played on his Lute. Familiar and new songs alike. And sometimes played Geralt's favorites twice. After dinner they would both curl up in the same bed. Summertime was hot, so Geralt had replaced the fur blankets with a thinner sheet of cotton. Which kept them cool. Despite that it was still hot, they both slept in shirts and breeches. Jaskier didn't have the confidence to bare himself just yet, even though he had let Geralt see him without a shirt twice now. But within close distance, that was a different story. Geralt didn't seem bothered by the heat as much as Jaskier though. In the mornings, Jaskier would make them both breakfast. And the Obrońca stubbornly slumbered or pretended to slumber in bed until Jaskier woke him with a gentle kiss on his head. It amused the boy and he was certainly happy to wake Geralt this way.

At day they worked on the garden. And picking back up on their language lessons. Jaskier patiently taught Geralt the words he wanted to learn. He improved greatly. Perhaps also because they now spoke to each other more often instead of a one sided conversation mostly coming from Jaskier. Geralt also taught him how to communicate with Płotka a little better. Allowing Jaskier to understand what certain sounds or gestures meant. How to look for signs to pinpoint a certain mood with her or how to tell the difference between snorts, bristles, huffs and whinnies. She was often close by. As it took a few days for her to finally feel comfortable enough to leave them for a bit to return to her meadow. When they were working she usually wandered around the edge of the garden. Nibbling on grass or a leaf or two or sunbathing on an open spot. Just keeping them company while still doing her own thing.

Jaskier saw the garden transform with each passing day. He was rather proud of what they were accomplishing together. They also had figured out how to hide the garden from outside view. Nobody would know it was there once they were done surrounding it with greenery that made it look like any other area surrounding their home. They harvested greenery from all around the mountain side to be able to do this. And it was starting to look rather good.

* * *

Today however they had run out of just that. And Jaskier really wanted to keep working. The only thing they could do today was gather more greenery so they could continue planting them tomorrow. They needed more shrubs, bushes, ferns and other different sized plants to hide the fence work around the garden. Jaskier was quite happily chatting away to Geralt about the different kinds of things they could plant once they were ready when he noticed Geralt was no longer walking beside him. Jaskier trailed off and turned around. Geralt stood there, lost in thought and his peaceful look had disappeared, replaced with one of worry and sadness. 

"Geralt? Is something wrong?"

Geralt seemed to suddenly act a bit uncomfortable. Something was putting him off, but what was it? 

"No. Not wrong... I have... I have a place..."

Geralt seemed to be searching for the right words, but it seemed that for whatever it was that he wanted to say, he couldn't find any. His mood shift had clearly been brought on by something around them. Nothing else had bothered him before. And they had just ventured into a territory they hadn't been to before. Or at least, Jaskier hadn't been to before.

"I show you."

Geralt said softly. That look in his eyes... so vulnerable and worried. It filled Jaskier with worry as well. Something told him that whatever it was that had a hold of Geralt now, it was something that took him some effort and courage to share. Jaskier nodded and let Geralt take his hand. He walked with the Obrońca. Feeling how Geralt nervously squeezed his hand. Jaskier didn't ask where they were going. He was sure Geralt would explain in his own time. They came to a stop for two trees that had grown into a strange arc. Almost like an entrance to something. Maybe that's what it was. Jaskier stopped when Geralt stopped and waited patiently for the other to speak. Whatever was troubling Geralt... It couldn't just be pulled out of him in a rush. 

"Remember... Remember you asked... ehm... what happened to... to other girls."

Jaskier frowned trying to think back on the questions he had asked back when Geralt couldn't communicate that well and then he replied.

"Oh! That's right. The other girls they ehm... gave to you."

Geralt seemed to appreciate the soft word but it still didn't ease him. Even if it made everything sound less harsh.

"They... ehm... here."

Geralt said softly. He waved a hand towards the tree arc and Jaskier followed the direction with his gaze. _Here? As in.. here, here? What does he mean?_ He looked back at Geralt and then back at the arc again and slowly walked towards it. Jaskier didn't really know what to expect. But it was safe to say he didn't expect the very thing that suddenly appeared before his eyes. _A graveyard._ His mind supplied him. There were several rows with wooden carved headstones. All neatly arranged. Wearing with age and inscribed with only a date. The further back in the rows, the older and more weathered the wooden memorials looked. _So many..._ Jaskier looked at them not quite knowing what to say or do. An icy chill ran up his spine when he thought about all these girls, having stood where he stood. And they didn't make it. Their families... the grief it had caused, the losses the villagers had suffered. Jaskier never knew how far back this tradition of sacrifice went until he was confronted with the number of graves he now saw. He turned to Geralt.

"A-are these..." Jaskier's voice cracked and he cleared his throat before he continued. "All of them?"

Geralt shook his head.

"I got.. better. Carried them away.. To south side path. Told them to run. But sometimes... wolf comes out."

Jaskier turned back to the graves. _How long has this been going on? How long have they forced these events to play out like this? To force Geralt to torture himself like this? How can they not in all these years have had the mind for change?_ He let his gaze slide passed all the graves and the years on them. Finding one in the third row that stood out among the rest. It was carved differently. More robust and the carvings were less intricate and more firm with thicker lining. 

"This one's different."

He said pointing out the grave.

"Was a boy."

Geralt replied without hesitation and yet there was a tremble in his voice. Jaskier could feel his own eyes widen and his mind brought forth the words the moment he saw them cross Geralt's eyes. _It could have been you._ It could have been Jaskier. It had almost been Jaskier. He would have made the most recent addition to this place if it weren't that fate had intended things to go differently for him. Jaskier wasn't quite sure what saved him. But he was certain that it had a reason. And perhaps one of the main reasons for his survival was to stop Geralt from blaming himself for this. He heard the tremor in Geralt's voice, saw the worry and grief in his eyes, he could see the Obrońca's body shake from where he stood. _He's still blaming himself. He still thinks this could be me. No.... No i won't let him._ Jaskier instantly crossed the distance between them. His lungs seemed to be robbed of oxygen and he felt the wind had been knocked out of him. _He still thinks of himself as a monster.._

Jaskier didn't stop, didn't think. Instead he wrapped his arms around the Obrońca and hugged him tight. 

"You know this isn't your fault right? None of this is your fault Geralt. You couldn't help it. You didn't want this. None of it. I understand that now. And this... look at this place. You _care._ You buried them. You didn't know their names but you were ready to remember them for the rest of your life. I don't care what anyone says, you're not a monster!"

Geralt trembled within Jaskier's embrace. So much that he was too weak to stand and he fell on his knees. Jaskier refused to let go of him. He cradled Geralt's head against his chest. Carding his fingers through the white hair. _Don't you see what this is? Don't you see how the humans have made you believe you are the monster? You're not. You never were. You saved me._ Jaskier had witnessed it when he went back to his own village. The people were too stubborn to believe that this insane ritual they had cooked up as a sick tradition wasn't necessary. They still fully believed someone needed to pay for their sins and that the only way they could prosper was to keep the 'evil' satisfied. When really, they were responsible for their own lives and just didn't want to own up to it. Geralt also lived all the way up the mountain. What influence would he have on the village anyway? He never went there! He went there once. For Jaskier. To let him visit his Nana. These people just... they just.. They were the monsters. The anger for this gathered in Jaskier's veins. All of these girls had died by the stubbornness and ignorance of human beings. Nothing else had caused their deaths! Jaskier would do anything to make sure Geralt would know and start to believe that.

He raised the Obrońca's head and forced Geralt to look at him. The watery golden eyes begged him to forgive Geralt when in fact, none of this was his fault. 

"This is not your fault. You. Are. Not. A monster."

Jaskier said. Firmly. Sternly. He would not have any argument on this. _Trust me Geralt. I would know. I know you now. And i believe in you._

" _Dziękuję_. _Nie wiem, co bym bez Ciebie zrobił. Dziękuję._ "

Geralt replied in tears. The words were foreign to Jaskier, but somehow, by some small miracle. He understood them. Like he believed Geralt saved him, Geralt believed he had been saved by Jaskier. And he was expressing his thanks. Jaskier held him tight. Geralt was silently asking him to forgive him for all that he had done in the past. Jaskier bend forward, his lips a soft and warm weight on Geralt's head. _There is nothing to forgive._

They spend a long time in each other's arms like that. Jaskier held Geralt and let him cry until the tears dried and the Obrońca was calm again. Geralt stood, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Relieved and drained at the same time.

"Are you alright?"

Jaskier asked him softly. Geralt nodded slowly, turning to look back at the graves. 

"I forgot..."

Jaskier blinked.

"What?"

Geralt looked around.

"I bring flowers... but when with you... i forgot."

Jaskier reached out to lace his fingers with Geralt's. 

"Would you like to bring some again?"

Geralt nodded slowly. 

"Why don't we go find some flowers instead then? We'll take a rest today. Pay our respects and continue working tomorrow?"

Geralt sniffed once and nodded again at Jaskier's suggestion. The boy took Geralt's arm and walked him out of the graveyard.

* * *

Like Jaskier had suggested they had been collecting flowers for the most part and cleaned up the wilted flowers, replacing them by fresh ones. It took up a bit of time, Jaskier hadn't exactly counted. Purposely because he preferred not knowing the exact number. But there had to be more then fifty at least. Calculating back five years for every body, Jaskier counted on this particular thing going on for at least 250 years. But then again it had to be a little further back still because a lot of the years didn't follow up on each other. Those were the girls that had made it out and set free by Geralt. Jaskier looked around, following the numbers all the way to the very first one.

"Was that... ehm.. the first?"

Geralt came to stand beside Jaskier and nodded while he laid some flowers down. 

"Village founder's- eh.."

"Daughter?"

"Yeah. Bad winter, many sick. I was different, younger. Only wanted to help. Founder misunderstood. Got scared of me. Tried to have me killed."

Geralt brushed some of the growing moss from the carved year. Only then did Jaskier realize this had been going on for a lot longer. The date was from 523 years ago. It was the shock of this struggle that made Jaskier reach for Geralt's hand.

"What happened?"

"hmm daughter she.. tried to stop them.. wrong time, wrong place. I was beast already. I was angry at men trying to kill me, she got in the way. I didn't see, so i killed her. Was an ac-.. accident."

Jaskier gasped softly and shook his head as if he wished it was a bad fairy tale and not the bitter truth of what happened back then. Geralt took Jaskier's hand between his own. Focusing on it for comfort.

"I was sad, scared, angry, i ran away. Up the mountain. Made my home here. Winter ended and sickness went away. Founder saw it as sign."

Jaskier turned his head towards the grave. So... someone had tried to stick up for Geralt before? But sadly she didn't make it. It suddenly made a lot of sense that Geralt hadn't known what to do with Jaskier at first. It must have been a shock to meet someone similar to the person who's death started all of this.

"So... This ritual... has existed since then?"

Jaskier asked carefully. Geralt sighed and nodded.

"Every five years, other girl. Sometimes boy. Brings out the memories. And i fight with the beast. We were... Are... one by nature. But... that memory... made us two."

disassociation. Blame. No wonder Geralt struggled so much. It made sense why he had used those artifacts to calm him and keep him in control. The cloak, the mask, the amulet. He was never suppose to fight with his inner beast, but this whole ritual had messed everything up. Jaskier huffed in frustration.

"It's not fair."

Geralt eyed him with a questioning look in his eyes. Jaskier felt he should elaborate and so he did.

"I mean this whole time, they left you to struggle with yourself. No one ever made an effort to find out the truth or to change this horrible tradition. And now you're telling me that this is all because of a misunderstanding? That our village was founded because you helped?! It just. Ugh it makes me so mad! You never did anything to hurt the people of our town and look how they treated you! How they treat you still! I doubt there's even a person alive who knows how this all started anymore. If i could just-... If i could just tell them to stop. Tell them the truth. Tell them... everything... I wish i could do something."

Geralt shook his head. Jaskier knew as well as Geralt probably did that it wasn't so easy to just up and change something that had been going on for hundreds of years. Since the village was founded apparently. But how he wished he could do something to change it all. He would in a heartbeat if he could. 

"You do something"

Geralt replied after a beat of silence. Jaskier looked up confused.

"What? What do i do?"

Geralt turned to him with a smile.

"You care."


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Am i being too repetitive? Sorry if i am. I thought about this for a long time. But I'm in a certain head space when i write and it just results in these clear images that i want to tell you from both sides of the story. Because i want so badly for you to see what i see. And sometimes i feel the need to repeat the scene from a different perspective for that. I don't do it for everything, but i hope it hasn't been done too much to make you stop reading.  
> Also i decided regular chapters are doable. Long ones... not so much. The length of the chapters may still vary. But they won't be longer then before by default.
> 
> Good news though. THIS CHAPTER WILL HAVE SOMETHING YOU HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR. *no spoilers

* * *

After laying flowers, Jaskier and Geralt talked about how this started. Geralt even though he knew Jaskier's opinion on the matter, was still amazed by his response to the story. And touched. Jaskier cared. Enough to be frustrated that he couldn't do anything about it. Maybe they couldn't do anything about it. Maybe they could. They still had 4 and a half years to figure it out. Together. Even if they had to keep bringing these girls to the other side of the mountain and set them free there, Geralt knew that somehow. It was going to be okay. He was going to be okay. _They_ were going to be okay. Because things were different now. He had Jaskier. He had his godsend little gift with blue eyes. Everything was going to be okay.

After speaking with Jaskier and laying flowers, they had called it a day. The next day they resumed work. And Geralt felt lighter then ever before. The next two weeks they worked until the garden was perfectly hidden. They cleaned out the fields and made them ready. Then together they planted a variety of vegetables, grain and a square corner of cotton in the back. 

"Let's hope the plants grow fast and will be strong enough to survive the coming winter. We were a little late with planting but i'm sure we'll be fine if we start things earlier next spring."

Jaskier mumbled as he stood to stretch himself after working on planting little tomato seeds. His hands were dirty and so was his face. It had black streaks draped across it as if he had spend his time rolling in the dirt. Geralt chuckled and cupped his face, wiping some of the dirt away with a hand. 

"I'm already happy we have this."

He replied. Jaskier grinned and reached out with a dirty hand, smearing some dirt on Geralt's face. 

"Here. I can't look like i'm the only one who has worked hard."

Geralt grinned but arched a brow as Jaskier stretched his arms and groaned a little.

"I'm sore. I must have pulled something."

Jaskier muttered as he twisted his body into different angles. One particular twist made it sound like something popped and Geralt nearly winched at the sound. Jaskier could do with a hot bath to treat his sore muscles. Oh! Or course! Which reminded Geralt... he hadn't showed Jaskier the hot spring at all! Seven months and it had never occurred to him to show Jaskier a different bath option then the stream they had close by. It was the true gem of this mountainside life. The secret that Geralt had protected and guarded. It was one of nature's wonders secretly stashed away in a safe place. 

"Does it hurt?"

Geralt asked him as he stretched a hand towards Jaskier. He touched the boy's shoulders and though he was not tense, the muscles felt hardened and strained. Maybe he did pull something.

"Only a little."

Jaskier replied, winching a little as Geralt put too much pressure on a sore spot. 

"Ow"

"Sorry"

Geralt removed his hand and whistled. Jaskier looked up with a surprised look, turning for the sign of the firemare bursting through the bushes. As always Płotka was quick to arrive. She greeted them both with a soft headbutt. Geralt held out a hand. And as if Jaskier had been expecting it he took it and walked right up to the mare so Geralt could help him get on. Geralt moved to take place behind the boy and spurred Płotka on to start walking. Jaskier leaned back against Geralt, toying with the closest strand of Płotka's mane. 

"So... where are we going?"

Jaskier asked while Płotka slowly took them further op the mountain. Calmly pacing with a rocking step. Geralt nodded his head towards where they were going.

"Up."

Jaskier snorted.

"I can see that. But i mean _where._ Won't you tell me?"

Geralt gained a little grin on his face.

"No."

Jaskier turned his head. Looking up at the Obrońca wide eyed before he caught the grin and the surprise turned to a fake insulted look. He couldn't hold it for long though and he laughed.

"So you're not going to tell me where we're going?"

"Is a surprise."

Jaskier huffed and leaned forward a little.

"You hear that Płotka? He doesn't want to tell me where we're going."

She snorted and raised her head a little. Nodding with her head. Jaskier sat back with a huff against Geralt's chest.

"Of course you know. But you're not telling me either. You're no fun, picking his side like that."

She whinnied which almost sounded like a chuckle. And it made Geralt laugh. She was teasing. The warm weight of Jaskier leaned against his chest while they rocked on Płotka's back. He moved his arms around the boy a little tighter and Jaskier made a happy noise as he leaned back. He seemed a bit impatient yet he tried his hardest not to persuade Geralt to give up his secret. They soon reached a rocky path near the peak that was a bit steeper then before. Płotka halted and bristled. Geralt arched a brow in response.

"Why not? You went up before."

She scraped a flaming hoof and shook her head.

"pebbles?"

Geralt frowned even harder. Jaskier snickered and made ready to slide off of Płotka's back.

"She means she doesn't like the small stones getting in her hooves. Is it far? I'm sure we can walk from here."

For a second, Geralt was speechless. He had forgotten how much he had taught Jaskier this passed month. And how much progress each of them made every day. He slid from Płotka's back first and caught Jaskier by the waist when the boy let himself slide from the mare's back. 

"Is not far."

Geralt said. Płotka left them to go explore a particularly interesting patch of grass by the side of the path, while Geralt took Jaskier by the hand and they started to climb the path. They took a turn when the opening of this cavern system presented itself. Or actually, did not present itself. Where the greenery hid the entrance for their home, this entry way was hidden by an optical illusion. The stones were positioned in such a way that it seemed to be nothing but a rock wall. While in fact, there was an opening if you walked up to the wall and then took a left. Shuffling along the wall. You'd enter a small section that lead up to supposedly another dead end, another optical illusion made by nature itself. Because passed in the back of the second wall was an opening that lead to a hidden gem of the mountain side. 

Geralt took Jaskier through the first opening. Which surprised the latter greatly. He widened his eyes and he actually went back outside to see where they just entered. Geralt waited for him. Jaskier came back inside with wonder written all over his face. 

"It's like magic!"

He exclaimed rather excited about it. Geralt smiled and took him to the second opening. This time Jaskier did not go back but he looked just as stunned. 

"Who knew Nature build secret doors. It's incredible. Or did you make them?"

Geralt shook his head.

"No. Come. I show you something."

He held out a hand and Jaskier instantly drew to it and accepted it. Laying his own hand in. 

"Close your eyes"

Geralt instructed. Jaskier gave him a side way glance but then lifted his chin a little and closed his eyes. Geralt took him by his shoulders and carefully guided him around the corner. Step by step.

"It's getting warmer. It feels... humid. And is that an echo?"

Jaskier mumbled while he let Geralt guide him. Geralt didn't reply, he made sure Jaskier stood on the perfect spot with the best view of the hot spring before he told him softly.

"Open your eyes."

Jaskier opened them slowly, they went wider and wider and Jaskier's lips fell open to the scenery.

"Geralt it's.. It's..."

Jaskier looked around. His eyes drinking in the beauty of the place. The natural brown and grey rock formations closed around a crystal clear turquoise pool with a rocky bottom. Sun rays creeping in from a hole in the incredible high stone ceiling, which plunged themselves into the brightly colored water. The surface of it steamed every so slightly. Hardly visible like a ghost's breath hovering just above the waters. It shone in it's reflected light and the surface was perfectly still. Not a single ripple to disturb the tension of the waterline. The pool stretched out into a lower tunnel like area that laid in the shadows, where the steam rising from the water was a little more clear.

"It's beautiful"

Jaskier whispered almost out of breath. Geralt felt relieved. Clearly Jaskier liked Geralt's favorite spot.

"Get in."

Geralt gestured to the water and walked further to the edge. He took of his shirt and his boots, pulling off his breeches too. It left him in his small clothes. Now he was confident enough for that, but that's where he left it. Jaskier had seen a lot of him but Geralt wasn't sure either of them were ready to see the other naked. He slipped into the pool, the first part of it coming up to his waist. The warm water encased his legs and hips and soothed his skin and aching muscles instantly. Jaskier however seemed to hesitate on the side of the pool. 

"Jaskier?"

The boy blushed a little and bit his lip. Adorable, but clearly a sign something was bothering him. Geralt almost wanted to climb out until the brunette spoke softly and embarrassed about the situation. 

"I ah... I can't swim."

Geralt's eyes widened a little. He couldn't... Had no one ever taught him? Wasn't swimming a natural thing to do? Geralt looked at the water and then back up at Jaskier.

"No deep here."

Jaskier nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. He seemed to have been fine by the creek before. But maybe that was because the water was only two feet deep. 

"Okay. Okay."

Jaskier said as if he was bracing himself. He shrugged off his shirt. With the heat of the summer he had temporarily stopped wearing his doublets. He kicked off his boots too and stopped at the breeches. Geralt waited. Puzzled by the look on Jaskier's face. Maybe he was debating whether to go into the water with breeches and all. But then he shrugged those off too. Left in his small clothes, same as Geralt. He carefully dipped a foot in, calling out surprised.

"Oh! It's warm!"

Quickly he dipped in another foot, sitting on the edge of the pool.

"Gods, this is heaven Geralt! My poor sore muscles will thank you in the morning."

The Obrońca smiled and waded a bit further in. Letting the water rise to his chest. The small ripples send from his movements reached Jaskier, lapping softly at his ankles. 

"Only works if you get in"

Geralt mused and looked up at Jaskier. The boy nodded, pushing himself further off the edge and allowing himself to slowly slide into the water. The light hit him in the most ethereal way. His skin caressed by the reflection of the pool. It made Geralt's golden eyes to catch the imprints left as little scars on Jaskier's hips. Five crescent moons on each side. They were barely visible but they were present like most of Geralt's scars. Whiter then the surrounding skin, slightly raised and uneven. Geralt hadn't really paid attention to it before when Jaskier took his shirt off, or maybe they were hidden under the edge of his breeches before. But he felt a pang of guilt swirl through him when he caught sight of them. They were his. He put them there. His claws had marked Jaskier before they even knew each other properly. Even though he knew that Jaskier had forgiven him for what happened, it didn't take away the fact that he still felt the weight of his actions. Even though he wouldn't wallow in misery for them anymore. It had happened and it was unfortunate. And he would do anything to prevent himself from doing it again. But he could be at ease knowing that despite the visible evidence Jaskier carried on his skin, they had both been able to move forward.

Jaskier lowered himself in, the water already reaching to his bellybutton where it reached to Geralt's waist. Despite that there were typical signs of growth for Jaskier's human body. Like the faint dust of slightly darker hairs trailing down from his navel to beneath the edge of his small clothes. And the same dusting of dark hairs that were beginning to sprout on his chest as a sign of near adult hood. He wasn't lanky or thin framed, in fact despite him lacking in height compared to Geralt, he was muscular enough to be considered the good side of healthy. Not too buff but normal healthy proportioned muscle spanning his body underneath his mostly smooth skin. Especially his arms and shoulders showed off that they could withstand the physical work he did on a daily basis. Tending to the garden was not as easy as one would think. It required some heavy lifting and some strength which Jaskier possessed tracing back to his life before. He had come from a farm after all.

Despite that and the hard work, his hands were still somewhat delicate. His fingers often a lithe surprise the way they danced over lute strings coaxing out intricate melodies that Geralt enjoyed while fixing them both dinner. No blunt farmer could ever hope to coax a melody out of a fragile instrument like that the way Jaskier did. The boy was multi talented and Geralt appreciated each and every one of those talents. 

"You're right it does work."

Jaskier pulled Geralt from his string of thoughts as he seemed to hover in one spot in the water. Tiptoeing on a rock that held him partly above the water surface. Geralt moved towards him slowly. Reaching out a hand. He shouldn't be surprised at how instantaneously Jaskier reached for it. They were alone and hovered- no, gravitated towards each other so naturally and automatically that it was basic routine. And yet Geralt still found himself somewhat surprised at the effect they had on each other. Slowly but surely, he started to understand bits and pieces of what Cahir's bond with Renfri must have been like. 

Jaskier accepted the hand reached towards him. Geralt reached out with the other one, and though Jaskier gave him a silent look that said; _what are you doing?_ Geralt eyed back at him with a look that said: _trust me._ And Jaskier did. Fully, wholly, as Geralt pulled him into his arms to a part of the water where Jaskier couldn't stand. Geralt held him, putting a hand at his back with splayed fingers to support him while with the other, he pushed Jaskier slightly back. The boy let it happen and his body relaxed completely as he trusted Geralt to hold him in place. Geralt let Jaskier lay back in the water like that, carrying him, holding him. Allowing him to let the warmth of the water work on his body. 

Jaskier hummed slightly and closed his eyes. One hand came up to clasp around Geralt's arm, but in a relaxed grip. Most likely just to remind himself Geralt was there. Geralt waded and paddled around the pool slowly like that. Holding Jaskier up while the other let himself drift off and relax. Until after a while, Jaskier opened up his eyes and they stood... vulnerable. Shimmering with something Geralt couldn't really place. 

"Thank you"

Jaskier's voice came out small and emotional. Filled with a vibration that almost made the tone waver but not quite. Geralt felt the words when they were spoken. Not just heard them, no. _Felt_ them. They ghosted across his skin with a shiver, settling deep in his heart where they nestled and laid to rest. Jaskier straightened himself by holding onto Geralt's shoulders. Clinging to him because if he let go he'd be lost in the water. Geralt gently held him by the waist, Realizing his palms were settling over the crescent claw marks he left on Jaskier's skin. Geralt felt his heart hammer away in his chest. Beating so loud, drumming in his ears it was near deafening. It went faster and faster and he couldn't really tell why. Perhaps it was of their closeness. Perhaps it was because of the way Jaskier was looking at him. Perhaps it was because of the way they were holding each other. But it raced like a firemare through open plains. 

Those blue eyes captivated him. Deeper then the ocean, bluer then the sky and the pool they were in. They flickered down towards his mouth and back up with an uncertainty. It tugged at something Geralt had never felt before. But he knew what it called for. He just knew. And he watched as those blue orbs slid to a close as their heads drew nearer. Before his own golden ones drooped shut and the warm softness of their lips touched and the weight of it ripped the gravity of the world and rearranged it. Whirling down to the center of his world which he now held in his arms. And all Geralt could sense, feel and think about in this moment, was Jaskier.

* * *


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yes i know i asked something about repetitiveness before and yet here i go again. But.. it kind of has a reason. And since most of you were kind enough to let me know it's not a big bother to you this will probably have a few more segments in further chapters. Because i am comfortable with this. So, if it makes you guys happy too then i guess i don't have to worry about my approach. I'm still learning as i go. That's the only way to get better after all. oh and positive feedback! tips and stuff like that are always welcome. Just be kind when you leave them. I don't want pity, but some of you may already know i barely sleep and writing helps me deal with my insomnia. And i'm okay like this. It's slow progress but i'm getting better. So yeah.. Be kind please. Thank you everyone who left a comment, kudo, subscribed or even just enjoy reading the story in silence. Stay safe.

* * *

It seemed that after their moment on the hillside graveyard. Geralt's demeanor had improved as if a burden had lifted from his shoulders. Jaskier witnessed him work more happily each day for the next two weeks. Never a single complaint. No bad moods. And most important of all, no nightmares. They both seemed to stave that off for the other and Jaskier was only glad they decided to keep sharing the bed in their routine. He felt safe with Geralt's body curled around his.

He himself worked without complaint as well. The work was not as easy as one would think, but growing up on a farm had it's perks. And Jaskier did his best as he always did. So much so that after two weeks when they were finally done planting, his body was in protest after all his hard work. Muscle pains and aches. A mere strain from putting in a lot of effort. Nothing he couldn't handle. He felt comfortable enough to share his physical health status with Geralt who had asked him with concern if it hurt. The way the man cared for him was sweet and Jaskier appreciated it. They looked after one another. So he had expected Geralt to offer his help with the ache. What he hadn't expected was the call Geralt gave off to reach Płotka. She came running as always and though Jaskier was curious as to why Geralt called her, he didn't resist as he was put on her back and Geralt hopped on behind him.

This time she took a path up and though Jaskier asked curiously where they were going, neither of them would tell. Spoil sports. Geralt seemed amused by it though. They rode on upwards until Płotka refused to go further. Arguing in her own language over the path being too filled with pebbles and cobblestones so small they would get stuck in her hooves. It wasn't pleasant, on that Jaskier could agree. So they walked the rest of the track up which... seemed to be leading no where at first. Just an ordinary stone wall. Made by nature itself. Needless to say it took Jaskier by surprise when Geralt walked up to it with him and pierced through the optical illusion. He had never expected nature in itself could hide such secrets. Geralt took him through a second wall and even though it surprised Jaskier less, he was still amazed.

Then Geralt had asked him to close his eyes. The Obrońca wanted to surprise him as if he hadn't done that already twice today. It was endearing and Jaskier would play along instantly. Curious about what Geralt wanted to show him, but also trusting towards the Obrońca. And as it turned out, it was well worth the wait. Met with the gorgeous sight of a turquoise pool with brown and grey rocks surrounding it all the way up to the high ceiling where a single hole was pierced by rays of sunlight. The view was breathtaking and Jaskier swore he could see mist hovering over the waters. Geralt proceeded to tell him to try the waters. Apparently he hadn't been brought here for just the view. It made Jaskier hesitate yet feel touched that Geralt would bring him all the way up here for a bath. Probably to help him relax and battle the ache in his muscles after working so hard. He felt a blush creep to his cheeks when he admitted he couldn't swim. But ease was poured back into his veins when Geralt told him the water wasn't deep everywhere. And with the Obrońca right there to watch over him, it would be fine. 

Geralt got in first. Again the blush he felt hovering over his face before made itself known and though Jaskier had seen a part of Geralt's body before, it still affected him. Finally he relieved himself out of his own clothes until he was left in his small clothes and carefully dipped his feet into the water. The temperature was heavenly. And warmer then Jaskier expected. It curled around his ankles with a soothing tingle and on Geralt's further advice he slid himself in further. Coming to stand on the rocks scattered across the bottom to keep himself up and his head above the water surface. The tingling spread immediately. Jaskier knew that warm water helped with the ache, and this was certainly easing his overworked body. He had worked so hard to finish the garden in time so they could plant things that he had forgotten to look after himself properly. Pushing through until it started aching. At least now they had their garden up and growing before summer's end. Which was a good thing. 

The longer he was in the water the more soothing it was. It was the exact correct temperature and the pleasant thing was, it didn't cool off nor did it get any hotter. Jaskier slowly moved around the rocks that kept his head above the water. Tiptoeing from one to the other, yet constantly careful not to fall in. Truth be told if he was alone he would have just sat himself down somewhere. But with Geralt right there Jaskier knew that if he did accidentally fall in, Geralt would save him in the blink of an eye. He didn't even have to ask, he just knew. Said white haired Obrońca slowly moved towards him. Rippling the water gently. Jaskier eyed him curiously, wondering what he was going to do. Then Geralt reached for him with a hand. It was an unspoken invitation that had Jaskier's automatic answer as the brunette felt himself reach out before his brain had even caught up with the invitation. He took Geralt's hand wondering what he wanted.

The Obrońca's golden eyes were shimmering softly. Partly because of the reflected light from the water surface and partly because of something else. Jaskier could get lost in their shine if he wanted to. The softness of that look accompanied a second hand reaching for him. Jaskier arched a brow but Geralt remained calm and silent. Asking him without words to put his trust in the Obrońca. And Jaskier did. He surrendered. Giving into those hands lifting him slightly. Even though he couldn't swim, in Geralt's hands he felt safe. Even when he felt his feet leave the rocky bottom and the solid ground pressing on his toes disappeared. He felt weightless. Drifting. In more then just water. He felt like he was drifting through space. One of Geralt's strong hands came to rest at his back and he let Jaskier tip backwards slowly. The brunette let out a breath and closed his eyes. Relaxing into the hold, going completely limp. Allowing the water surface and Geralt to carry him. The remaining tension his muscles had had from the hard work seeped out of him. Sucked away by the warmth and the knowledge that he could do this because Geralt kept him afloat. 

He reached out with a hand. Merely to feel Geralt standing there beside him. Jaskier knew that if he allowed himself to, he could drift off like this. And let Geralt carry him around the pool for hours. The strong hand at his back seemed a little warmer then the water. Firm too. With a solid weight settling against his skin. A touch he could feel deep within his bones. That's how aware he was of his life, health and everything else currently laying in Geralt's hands. The Obrońca merely had to pull his hands back for Jaskier to drown. And yet he knew Geralt would never do that. In the time that Jaskier had gotten to know him, he had come to know that Geralt was the sort of person who would sooner let himself get hurt horribly and bloody, or would die a thousand agonizing deaths, before he would let anything happen to those he cared for. And that all the bad the Obrońca had done before was unwillingly. A savage intervention of the beast's nature. One that Geralt tried to fight at every turn. 

Jaskier's mind flashed back to all those times he saw the struggle. The way Geralt tried to make up for his mistakes, fight to protect and ask forgiveness for when he was too weak and lost the battle. Jaskier thought about the insecurities it brought him. The scars and the fear that Jaskier too was going to act like any other human and make him out to be a monster. Perhaps in a way he had saved Geralt. But... Geralt saved him too. When Jaskier was picked as the next sacrifice, his people turned on him. The villagers took away his home, his life. He had nothing left. Geralt, though they had a false start, had given him a roof above his head, went to gather some of his clothes and his lute, gave him back his music, gave him food and something- someone to live for. Jaskier already made up his mind about staying a long time ago. Because he saw the Obrońca for what he was. A lonely creature in need of help, acceptance and company. And Jaskier was determined to do his best to provide this for him. And it seemed they were still not done saving each other.

Geralt had been near his end in Sodden Keep. Jaskier did whatever he could to get him out of there. And though this whole pool thing was nothing as drastic or adventurous as that, Geralt was saving him in turn from other things. Aches and pains were the prime example. They were saving each other at every chance they were getting. In a way, Geralt -by caring for Jaskier- also saved himself. 

Jaskier opened up his eyes slowly. Met with a look of utter wonder and warm affection. Those molten golden eyes seemed like they had liquid gold swirling in glass orbs. So beautiful and shimmering, Jaskier lost his train of thoughts. He had never seen eyes like that. But... he had also never seen anyone look at him the way those eyes looked at him now.

"Thank you"

He managed to whisper. Still touched even after more then half a year with all that Geralt was doing for him. And completely and utterly captivated by his eyes. Jaskier felt it pull on him. It reached within him so deeply that it felt like he had an entire universe hidden away inside his body. And this feeling reached the very center of it. The only thing that feels vaguely familiar is the fluttering feeling that accompanies the pull. That he knew. He felt it before, briefly. For a girl in the village. He felt that flutter when she smiled and played with her friends in the orchard in the summer. He was fourteen and she moved away next summer. But it had never felt as strong as the thing he was feeling now. 

* * *

He pulled himself up on Geralt's shoulders. Strong broad muscles, firm under his hands. Burning under the pads of his fingertips. The fluttering in his stomach was only strengthened now that he was leaning so close. Geralt held him, standing there in all his might and glory. Jaskier was reminded of the time he saw Geralt's face for the first time. And then when he needed to take off his shirt to let Jaskier put salve on his wounds. Both times he had hesitated. Seemed embarrassed almost. Worrying about what Jaskier was going to say or do or how he was going to react. Didn't he know? None of his scars could ever take away from the whole sight of him, the handsome face that was his, the strong body that Jaskier curled up to every night. Nothing about him was ugly. Even those marks his bad memories left did not break that perfect image. Geralt truly was a magnificent creature. Whether he was in this form, or his beast form. He was beautiful and Jaskier felt his heart race just by being close to him.

Subconsciously Jaskier let his eyes slide to Geralt's lips and back up again to those molten gold eyes. They stood enriched in color it seemed. Brighter then ever. Burning. And Jaskier forgot how to breathe. He had thought about it since he had become bold enough to kiss Geralt on his head. What it would be like to kiss those lips. And before his mind could catch up and he could talk himself out of it, Jaskier found himself acting on instinct. Leaning in. Gravitating towards a longing, a want. Eyes closing, heart thundering in his ears. The fluttering in his stomach at it's peak. And then...

Little jolts of lightning. Sparking up in every vein, every cell. Jaskier felt a soft warm weight settle on his lips and he didn't have to open up his eyes to know that Geralt had leaned in as well and was kissing him. Their lips, molding together perfectly, were still as if both of them were afraid to shatter the moment. As if movement would break this spell. Jaskier felt everything so much more intense. The weight of the hands settled on his hips, holding him up so he wouldn't slip under water. The heat of the body in front of him. The earthy scent that now entered his nose. And the warmth of Geralt's lips on his. Gods... Jaskier selfishly wished he wouldn't have to breathe. That he could hold this moment forever. But his lungs disagreed. With a flush he pulled back, unable to open his eyes for a moment until he felt a warm rush of air on his face and realized Geralt was just as breathless. 

When he opened up his eyes he still felt like he wasn't breathing. Like he couldn't breathe. Geralt's eyes were simmering in one of the most beautiful ways Jaskier had ever seen them. So full to the brim with an emotion that was both happy and serious, deep and firm. Geralt seemed frozen in that ethereal look for a moment before he tightened one arm around Jaskier's waist and pulled him closer, while the other came up to cup his cheek. Jaskier let his arms slide around Geralt's neck as if they never did anything else and closed his eyes, longing for the coming kiss. Geralt leaned in and they reconnected. The sparks were back again and intensified this time with the slight movement in Geralt's lips. Jaskier let himself be guided, mirroring the movements with his own lips while he clung to Geralt with one arm and the other hand found purchase in Geralt's white hair.

They moved slow, capturing each other's bottom lip between their own in turn. No teeth just warm soft flesh molding together in a dance. Jaskier felt light headed and he couldn't decide whether that was from the lack of proper breathing or because his whole body tingled. Geralt's arm around him felt strong and secure and the other hand slid through his hair with a tenderness Jaskier had never felt before. They only parted once again when they were forced to breathe. Jaskier looked up, a flush painted Geralt's face in a rosy color. Such a contrast to his white hair and horns. But Jaskier was pretty sure the same flush had crept to his own cheeks. He felt hot, embarrassed and he needed to cool off. But he was still in deep waters with Geralt. 

"c-could you ehm... Put-... put me back in the shallow?"

Jaskier felt his own voice waver and he didn't even know what for. He stuttered from the mere intensity of the moment while there was no reason for him to. Geralt didn't seem to trust himself to speak. So he nodded silently and walked back to the part where Jaskier could stand and put him down. Though perhaps a bit reluctantly. As soon as Jaskier's feet touched solid rock he discovered why reluctance was part of Geralt's wordless response. Letting go of him was a lot harder then Jaskier initially thought. He wanted to cool off yes. But when he let go of Geralt to stand on his own and create some distance between them, he felt cold, hollow. As if a part of him was missing. 

* * *

The rest of the time at the hot spring was a bit awkward. Jaskier wasn't quite sure what this meant, even though some people would say that a kiss like the one they shared was pretty obvious pointing towards one thing. It just wasn't that simple for them. It was a lot harder to look Geralt in the eyes for the moment. Mainly because Jaskier was now hyper aware of the fact that Geralt seemed to look at him in a certain way and then turn his head with a blush on his cheeks. Jaskier could hardly look himself without wanting to dive back in to kiss Geralt senseless. And he was also hyper aware of the fact they were both solely in their small clothes. Jaskier felt ridiculously like a small child all over again. Confused, helpless and yet so full of these new emotions and sensations that he didn't quite know how to handle them. Any frustrated kid would probably scream or cry as an outlet for something they didn't understand. Jaskier however now wished he had brought his lute. Music calmed him when he was feeling overwhelmed or bewildered or frustrated. 

What was it that played between them? What drew him towards Geralt this way? Was this what love felt like? It just... felt so much more intense then the crush he had on that girl a few years ago. If this was love... would Geralt feel it too? They spend their time in silence. The air heavy with something like pulses before a lightning storm. Tense, uncertain. Which kept hovering between them for the entire way down back to their home. It seemed Płotka could sense it too. She was a lot more quiet. Not engaging in some interaction like she usually would. Her sass traded for seriousness. Maybe she just didn't want to add more pressure to the already charged mood between them. Jaskier wondered why Geralt was quiet though. The white haired had been the same awkward, distance keeping mess Jaskier had been since the kiss. The brunette was filled with questions and confusion. He guessed that maybe Geralt was filled with it too. 

By the time they both went to sleep, the air was still simmering with... something. Jaskier didn't know what it was. He tried to ignore it, but when he tried to curl up into his usual position against Geralt, the other tensed. Jaskier looked up. Geralt was looking at him and in his eyes was something along the lines of discomfort. Jaskier felt the amulet around his neck pulse with a rhythm that was almost like a heartbeat. It radiated warmth and kept pulsing at the same rate almost like a tool to calm it's wearer. Jaskier fumbled with the chain and took it off, slipping it around Geralt's neck with some effort. It seemed to ease the Obrońca some. Jaskier wondered why, but then he remembered that when they first met, Geralt had trouble with being around him. Just touching Jaskier seemed to be difficult. Maybe now that they had gotten closer, he struggled again. After all he had been without his artifacts for some time. And with the whole battle with Stregobor's soldiers and being sedated with Vermillion, Geralt had been beast for a long time. Maybe this all contributed to him struggling again.

Jaskier inched closer. Cupping Geralt's cheek with his hand. Softly caressing his temple, then onto his hair, stroking him softly to soothe him. Geralt was breathing slowly and his eyes grew heavy. 

"It's okay. Go to sleep Geralt. It's okay."

Jaskier whispered. Geralt's eyes drew to a close and Jaskier curled up to him as usual. And yet it still felt different from before. As if a part of him was more aware of the closeness of their bodies. The way they fit together like this. 

* * *

In the morning, Geralt gave him the amulet back. Several days went by without trouble. They tested the waters carefully. Still close. They found ways to enter each other's space. Holding hands or placing a hand on the other's arm or leg or giving a brief hug. Jaskier still woke Geralt with the kiss on his head. They were searching for the comfort in each other's embrace and slowly they found it. As the charged and nervously tense air between them dissolved over time. Once it was gone completely, Jaskier attempted another kiss. Something short, sweet. Just lips on lips, but enough to give Geralt pause in his work. It was safe to say that this building up to it worked for them. It worked for Geralt who was able to relax without having to resort to wearing his artifacts again. Summer faded into autumn. And Jaskier realized his name day was coming up. He would be turning eighteen soon. It made him wonder... 


	28. Chapter 28

Geralt and Jaskier sat outside today. Despite the slowly dropping temperature the weather was still nice out. The trees were slowly changing color from green to bright reds, yellows and oranges. Some a warm brown and between them evergreens that never changed color at all. It colored their surroundings into a beautiful palette. Jaskier was working on stitching his fur boots. They had come apart a little the other day when he nearly tripped over a rock and snagged the material on the sharp edge. Luckily Geralt managed to catch him and he wasn't hurt. They had taken a while to get used to more closeness then before. After the kiss in the hot spring, Geralt had been troubled by this unsettling feeling that he could hurt Jaskier if he got too close. Being near him, kissing him like that, made his heart race. And when his heart started racing it was more likely for him to transform. Thankfully Jaskier had picked right up on that and helped him get passed it by gradually getting him used to their closeness. They shared kisses sometimes. And each time with caution. And each time Geralt felt his heart race, the pressure and urge to turn into his beast form had become slightly less. It helped. This way he didn't have to go back to wearing his artifacts and he didn't have to keep his distance from Jaskier either. 

Sometimes, when he was having a bit of a harder time to keep control, Jaskier would lend him back the amulet. He'd wear it until he was calm enough and then hand it back. It now had been three days since he last wore it. Which meant that it was getting easier to keep himself under control even with an elevated heartbeat. Jaskier hummed while he put his work down. Turning his head to watch Geralt working on carving a stool. The old one broke and fell apart with old age. After all it had been a while since he made it. Most of the things in the cave were slowly up for replacement. 

"Hey.. Geralt?"

"hmm?"

"My name day is coming up soon. I'll turn eighteen before the winter. I was wondering... Do you know your own name day?"

Geralt frowned a bit and paused his work, turning his head to Jaskier.

"Name day?"

Jaskier nodded.

"You know... When you were born. The day that you age a year."

Geralt turned his head to stare at the ground in thought. He never really gave it much thought. He had always been alone. There was no one to even have an interest in his age or celebrating another year. And even if there had been... he had so many of them. He hardly even knew how old he was anymore. 

"Don't know... I forgot."

Jaskier frowned.

"How can you forget your own name day?"

Geralt shrugged and continued to carve into the stool to give it the intricate patterns to match the rest of the wooden furniture inside their home. 

"Never had someone who cared. Always alone."

Jaskier's eyes widened a little in realization.

"oh... Of course. I'm sorry. That was thoughtless of me."

Geralt shook his head.

"Is okay. Important to humans to remember. I get it."

Jaskier huffed and looked at the boots he was working on.

"Well, i do think it's something worth celebrating. You really don't remember at all?"

Geralt shook his head.

"No. Maybe... Maybe was in winter. Only thing i remember."

Jaskier chewed on his lip in thought. The sight of it made Geralt's stomach flutter and at the same time he thought it looked very cute. 

"Well... maybe we can celebrate together then. My name day can be your name day too! We could do something special. And maybe i'll even get you a present."

Geralt turned his head back to Jaskier surprised and at the same time touched at the suggestion. Maybe he didn't remember what day he was born, but Jaskier thought it important enough to share his own day with him so they could each celebrate together that they had gained another year of experiences and hopefully, wisdom. 

"Present..."

He parroted in thought. Unsure of what he could possibly give Jaskier for his name day. 

"Yes. You know... like a gift?"

"I know. Just... what would you want?"

jaskier thought about it for a while as he stared at the boots in his hands. 

"I don't know actually. Funny. I used to know what i wanted so clearly. But now... I feel like i already have everything i want."

As he said it, he looked up into Geralt's eyes. Sky blue orbs settling on him with a gentle light in them. It made Geralt ache in his chest. Feeling his ribcage tighten around his heart it seemed. He understood it perfectly. That feeling of being content with what they had and who they were with. 

"I suppose if there's anything i want at all it may just be something practical. Something we can use around our home." 

Jaskier decided then. It made Geralt smile. Of course. That was the only logical thing to ask for. He nodded, trying to go over the things they had and the things they were still missing in his head. 

"What about you? What do you want Geralt?"

Now there was a tough question. The Obrońca frowned a little as he thought about it. There wasn't really a thing that he wanted anymore. All he ever wanted was to not be lonely. And that was a gift that Jaskier was giving him every day. He had no idea what to ask for. 

"Don't know. What you want to give. Don't need more then i have."

Geralt decided that what he had was enough. Jaskier's company, day in day out was more then enough. It was the only thing he wanted. If there was one thing he could wish for, it was that he wanted this to last. But time was not in Jaskier's power to give, so he asked for nothing. 

"You're not helping."

Jaskier pouted. Geralt chuckled and put the stool he was working on down.

"You are the same."

Jaskier grinned and put his own work on the newly carved stool. 

"You're right. I'm not helping either. But i meant what i said. What could i possibly ask for? When i already have everything i want. Everything i need. It's right here." 

Jaskier moved a little closer, A hand coming up to Geralt's cheek. Geralt felt the heat creep to his cheeks and paint him with a blush. He turned his head away to avoid those intense blue eyes set on his, but Jaskier guided his head back by cupping the other cheek too. Geralt breathed slowly. Trying to calm his heart which was slowly increasing it's rhythm with Jaskier's actions. He reached out and laid one of his big palms against Jaskier's cheek. Nearly cupping the entire side of his head. Jaskier tilted his head into the touch. Nuzzling in the grip.

"I know.. what you mean.."

Geralt said softly. His voice on the edge of a whisper. Jaskier leaned in himself and Geralt's eyes slid closed even before their lips touched. Every time, no matter how small the kiss, it still felt like the first time. The warmth and softness and pressure of Jaskier's lips on his send tingles through Geralt's body every time. A sensation that gave him pleasant goosebumps and danced around on his skin, causing little tremors to run through him. Vibrating deep into every pore. 

Jaskier moved closer and Geralt made the space for him to settle on the Obrońca's lap. Jaskier's arms came up around his neck and Geralt wrapped an arm around his waist. Their lips moved slow and gently. Molding together, pushing, pulling, catch and release. They kissed until Jaskier pulled back, flushed and a little breathless. Geralt moved his head and reached forward to press a kiss on Jaskier's head like the boy so often did for him. It was an affectionate gesture that settled them both. Calming and soothing and a clear display of care. They stayed close like that, comfortable. Jaskier curled up a little more into Geralt's lap. Playing with one of the strands of Geralt's long white hair.

"I've been wanting to ask... Since you don't remember your name day..." Jaskier mumbled after a while. ".. Do you remember how old you are?"

Geralt tried to think back on how many winters he had seen. How long this ritual thing with the village below had been going on, and tried to count back from there. He couldn't be entirely certain, but he had a well educated guess. 

"hmm... How many winters... ehm.. 9 centuries... and.. 7 decades.. maybe 6 more winters? I think..."

Jaskier's eyes widened considerably. Which was understandable. Humans barely made it to a century and that was the length of their lifespan. Compared to them Obrońca Lasu were near immortal. They just aged incredibly slow. And more often then not died before their time because they were killed by something. This happened so often that most of them didn't even know what the average lifespan of an Obrońca Lasu was. Considering they couldn't exactly form a culture together because of the hostility between their species, one could also not go to another Obrońca and ask them for their age. Geralt himself had no idea how old he could get or how old the oldest Obrońca had been thus far. 

"Wait... you're about 976 years old? Human years?!"

Geralt gained a bit of color in his face as he nodded. Why? Was this a bad thing? Was he too old? If his mother was still alive Jaskier would definitely be shocked. She had a few centuries on Geralt. 

"I... can't even... You've been alone for so long?!"

Jaskier's eyes watered. Sadness rolling off of him in waves all of a sudden. It confused Geralt who quickly wiped the first rolling tear away with his thumb.

"Jaskier... Don't cry."

"But you've been alone for _ages!_ Ages Geralt! The span of time that you've suffered through this... this... Solitude. It's... It's..."

Geralt gently brushed a stray hair out of Jaskier's face and wiped a tear away from the other cheek.

"It's okay... I have you now."

Jaskier choked down a sob and shook his head.

"I know but-... If i just think about that happening to me... I don't know if i could have-... If i'd have lived. Knowing you went through that... All alone. It's a miracle you're still... You still..."

Jaskier couldn't finish his thoughts. Geralt kissed him through his tears. Tasting the salty wetness slipping between their lips. Tears cried because of him-no... Tears cried _for_ him. No one has ever cried for him before. No one had ever cared about his suffering. And Geralt understood the horror that Jaskier felt, realizing that he had been struggling through this nightmare for so long. They way out had been... tempting. Geralt had to admit there had been longer periods of time where he felt like a ghost, going through the motions without really living his life. And there were other moments when the solitude drove him to near madness and any human contact could be a trigger to go down and wreak havoc, going on a rampage through human settlements because they were the root of the cause. But he had found a way to make it work. To keep himself in check and to remain here. Sometimes... when the darkness really closed in on him and he felt he would be better off dead, he was hit with a strong sensation that he needed to keep going. Because he was waiting for something. Or someone. Now, sitting here, with Jaskier in his lap, watching him cry not for his own troubles but those of Geralt... The Obrońca understood just what he had been waiting for. 

"I'm still here."

He whispered softly. Jaskier shook slightly with his small sobs and looked into Geralt's eyes. The Obrońca caressed Jaskier's cheek with a thumb.

"All this time... I had a.. a feeling that i needed to keep going no matter what... That i was waiting for something. I think... I think i was waiting for you."

Jaskier's eyes widened a little, the sobs ceased slowly and his face shifted into a pout.

"Fate is cruel. She should have let me come to you sooner." Jaskier mumbled as he lowered his head in Geralt's neck and hugged him tightly.

"You're here now. You saved me. That's what matters."

Geralt replied softly as he wrapped both his arms around Jaskier. So.. the boy admitted to it. He didn't deny it. He even called it fate. Maybe... they were meant for each other. Maybe all of this, what happened in their lives leading up to their paths crossing, and all that happened after... Maybe it all happened for a reason. Maybe this all needed to happen to bring them together. Maybe there was more in store for them still. Maybe Geralt had to wait for so long because Jaskier was human. And their life spans were not the same. Maybe they were going to grow old together. Who knew? 

* * *

They sat there hugging for a long time. Jaskier had calmed down from his sobs but he was still a bit upset over the information he had obtained in their conversation. Geralt couldn't blame him. He knew by now that Jaskier had a big heart. Almost too big for him. He was caring and precious and more open then any human Geralt had ever met. 

"How do you know?"

Jaskier asked suddenly. 

"Know what?"

"That i'm the one you were waiting for?"

Geralt huffed with a small laugh. 

"How could i doubt it? From the moment we met i knew you were different. I sensed it. And i guess a part of me was afraid of it. Scared of the change.'

"Am i really that different?"

Geralt nodded to the brunette. Jaskier frowned as he sat back.

"What made you so sure?"

Geralt took Jaskier's wrist in his hand and laid a finger over his pulse. The heartbeat sped up beneath his fingertip. And he looked up into Jaskier's eyes.

"You have no fear."

Jaskier huffed and turned his head away.

"That's not true."

"Why?"

"Because i was afraid. Not _of_ you. But when i saw what they did to you in Sodden keep... i was afraid _for_ you. I was scared that they might have done something irreversible to you. I was worried that maybe they had taken you away from me and scared it was going to be permanent. The truth is, i don't know what i would be doing with my life if i can't be here. If i can't be with you. I can't go back. And despite once having had a dream of traveling as a Bard, i know nothing of the world out there. I don't know anyone. I.. I feel safe here. This is where i'm happy. With you. Thinking about losing that. It does scare me. More then you know."


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So as you may have noticed there was a bit of an interval. I'm moving and i'm working on getting my internet up and running. I don't plan to slow the updates but it might just occur one or two of them will be delayed. Also i managed to find a way around the repetitiveness and still tell the story i want to tell. I'm still deciding whether this works for me or not. Let me know what you guys think.

"I feel safe here. This is where i'm happy. With you. Thinking about losing that. It does scare me. More then you know."

Jaskier felt his heart drum in his ears at rapid speed while he talked. It was true. They didn't start off great, true but... With everything that Geralt did to apologize and provide for him and care for him. Jaskier felt safer here then anywhere. He felt happy. He wasn't restricted in what he could do, he wasn't obligated to certain chores. He could pick his own schedule for the day and Geralt would always be there for him. Never kicking him out or forcing him to leave. What was he going to do in a big scary world out there when he had everything he needed right here? When everything he wanted was right here? When everything he cared for was right here... This bond between them, Jaskier could hardly find the words to explain but it nestled deep inside his chest and warmed him from the inside. What they had growing between them, it made Jaskier happy. He realized he had come to care for Geralt. More then just because he didn't want the Obrońca to be lonely or beating himself up over the past. 

"Even after..."

Geralt replied softly. Jaskier looked up into those golden eyes. They stood hopeful but uncertain. Jaskier had to search for the meaning behind those words in his mind, but he soon realized what exactly Geralt meant with 'after'. He was leaning back on the first night. Jaskier bit his lip and shrugged a little.

"Well i mean, it wasn't great. I still don't completely understand why it happened or what drove you to do it. But i understand from your actions it wasn't something you wanted to do. Or even something you did on purpose."

Geralt looked away. Probably because of the memory, but Jaskier wouldn't let him get away with guilt and shame. He slid a hand under Geralt's chin and brought those golden eyes back on him.

"Geralt look at me. Look at all the things you did for me. You brought me my clothes, my lute... You helped me heal. You gave me a place to stay, a bed to sleep in. Food to eat. You could have done a hundred different things to me after what happened. You could have kicked me out onto the south road. You could have buried me next to those girls. You could have left me to fend for myself. You could even have just accepted me being here without ever apologizing. But look at me. You didn't leave me for what i was in that moment. You tried and you fought and you fought harder to overcome... whatever it was that made you do things like that. You struggled around me because you weren't used to me. But you tried and now? Now i can sit here and hold you and i can even kiss you without you having to pull away."

Geralt's eyes were watering. Jaskier could see himself in them so clearly, like two golden mirrors. But he ignored the image of himself for the preferred focus on the light that hit Geralt's eyes in a way that made Jaskier ache inside. Hope, care, tenderness. They mixed into a shade of gold that looked more valuable then any treasure. 

"Jaskier, I... _dziękuję, że wciąż tu że mną jesteś._ I... I have no human words.. i.."

Jaskier shook his head. He didn't need human words. Even though he didn't understand what Geralt said, he thought he could guess the meaning quite well. 

"It's okay. I guess that's another thing you can teach me. I've been teaching you my language but... I feel it doesn't always express your meaning well. So teach me. Allow me to learn what really holds meaning to you. I want to know your language."

 _I want to know your heart._ Jaskier didn't say it. But the urgency in his voice to show that he really meant wanting to learn a language that was forgotten by most let it come across clearly. He wanted to be closer to Geralt. Not just physically. He wanted to know, truly know, Geralt. And embrace every part of him. Geralt had been blushing a lot in this conversation, mainly because of the deep feelings probably, but Jaskier now witnessed him grow his darkest shade yet. 

"Is a difficult language to learn."

Geralt mumbled. Jaskier chuckled.

"I'm only turning eighteen. We have time. I don't mind if it takes a long time."

Geralt gained a smile of his own and nodded in agreement.

"Okay. I will teach you."

" _D_ _ziękuję._ "

The Obrońca raised a brow, staring perplex and speechless at Jaskier who just said his first word in old language. And though it was accented, it certainly wasn't mispronounced. Jaskier searched Geralt's eyes and found only surprise and amazement. He sighed in relief knowing he didn't say something wrong.

"You said it a few times. I figured out it must mean something along the lines of: Thank you."

Jaskier explained. Feeling rather giddy that he managed to take Geralt by surprise.

"It does. Exactly that. I didn't realize... You pick it up so easily."

* * *

The days slid by easily and at a moderate pace from that conversation forward. Jaskier and Geralt were closer then ever. Not a single day went by that they didn't share a single sweet kiss. Whether it was in the morning or evening, when they woke or went to sleep. Or as a simple thank you if one made breakfast and the other dinner. A mere peck on the cheek or on the lips. Or something a little deeper. Jaskier swore he would never be happier then this. 

In the mean time Jaskier tried to figure out what kind of a gift to give Geralt for his name day. They both had agreed that they didn't really need or want anything. But Jaskier still intended to try and find something that had meaning, rather then just a practical gift. He knew what he wanted to make, but eventually he realized he didn't have the tools nor the materials to make it. Frustrated Jaskier had gone through all of their belongings to come up with a better plan. But so far nothing had come to mind. He huffed until his eyes settled on his Lute. Well... until he had a better gift, one Geralt could touch or use or wear, he would have to make due with a newly composed song. He worked on it on moments that Geralt was outside doing other things, during which Jaskier snuck inside and worked on the melody and lyrics of this special song. 

When the morning of his name day finally came, Jaskier was actually a bit nervous about performing his new song for Geralt. He never really let anyone listen to one of his own compositions before. He usually played things he had heard elsewhere or learned from musicians that traveled through their village. That's how he had learned most of the popular songs. Composing something on his own wasn't new. He had done it before but he never let anyone listen except for his Nana. Maybe he wasn't ready for what other people thought. Maybe he just loved to see the smile on her face more then he cared about the opinions of others. That is how he felt now. He hoped it would bring a smile to Geralt's face. 

The white horned creature laid steadily asleep next to Jaskier. Slow breathing indicated a peaceful slumber. One void of nightmares and bad memories. Jaskier smiled and brought his lips to Geralt's head. Leaving them for a moment to create an imprint of warmth on the latter's head. It made Geralt take a deep breath before he groaned a little and slowly opened those beautiful golden eyes. They settled on Jaskier and within an instant, Geralt's mouth corners were curling up and he pulled the human a little closer. 

"Good morning."

He mumbled. Jaskier's heart skipped a beat with how adorable this strong and intimidating man could really be. He leaned into the Obrońca's touch and brought his lips a little lower. Settling on Geralt's lips as he kissed him softly. 

"Happy Name Day."

Jaskier whispered back against Geralt's lips. Geralt hummed and brought a hand up to Jaskier's brown locks. They were getting a bit long, almost long enough to fall into his eyes. He stroked a hand through the soft strands and tucked some of it behind Jaskier's ear. 

"Happy Name Day to you, Jaskier."

Geralt replied. Leaning in for another kiss. Geralt rolled onto his back and yawned while he stretched his limbs. Jaskier propped an arm over Geralt's chest and let his chin rest on it to allow himself to gaze down at the white haired Obrońca. 

"So... What do you want to do today? We could do anything. Except work. You're not suppose to work on your name day. Except maybe watering the garden. But that's all the work we're gonna do for today."

Geralt hummed and propped one of his own arms up behind his head to rest on it and to be able to look at Jaskier without straining his neck.

"Hmm. We could pack our food and eat outside with Płotka, in her meadow. She would like that."

Jaskier grinned.

"That's a good start. I'd like that too. Maybe we could visit the hot spring again?"

"We could."

"We could also stay in bed."

Jaskier suggested and Geralt's chest rumbled with a low laugh. 

"If you're comfortable with that. But then i won't be able to give you your gift."

Jaskier raised his head in curiosity. So Geralt managed to get him a gift. He wondered what it could be.

* * *

In the end despite some protest from Jaskier they decided to get up. Together they packed up a basket with fruits, meat, cheese, drinks and bread to eat outside with Płotka. Jaskier strapped his Lute to his back and together they walked to the meadow where the Fire mare was laying sprawled across the green carpet of grass, soaking up the sun. She lifted her head when she heard them approach. Happily neighing from her position but far too comfortable to get up. Jaskier walked over to her and cuddled her big head before he sat and pulled her head in his lap, stroking her cheek and ruffling through her manes. Geralt chuckled and came to sit next to Jaskier. Feigning complaints over how Płotka was hogging all the attention and that she must love Jaskier more then him. Thankfully both Płotka and Jaskier knew very well that he was teasing. And Płotka snorted in return as if she said: It's your own fault for bringing this human with you. 

They sat and they joined her in her lazy antics. Soaking up the sun, enjoying the weather which was still very mild for this time of year. It was still sunny out and though it wasn't a summer's day anymore and the trees were coloring in autumn palette, it was still plenty warm. Not warm enough to be sitting there without their fur cloaks. But warm enough to sit outside and enjoy the sun. After a while, Geralt opened up the basket they brought and tore the bread into smaller pieces. Jaskier took an apple and fed it to Płotka, who gobbled it up happily and left a bit of a messy slobbery trail on his breeches. He'd have to wash those. And they were getting a bit small. Sooner or later he'd either have to make new ones, or go out and try to buy some from a settlement nearby. He may be turning eighteen but he was still growing a little bit. After the first apple he treated her to another. After all, it was a bit of a party. They were celebrating today and giving Płotka an extra treat was all part of the celebration.

After spending a good amount of time laying around and enjoying the food and the sun and Jaskier strumming his Lute, the basket was finally empty and it had long been passed noon. Płotka carried Geralt and Jaskier back to the garden where they watered the seeds and plants that needed it. Just the necessary things. Even though there wasn't much to do, they had a fairly large garden and even watering almost took an hour. After that Płotka faithfully carried them up towards the hot spring where Jaskier had to look twice before he could find the entrance again. Inside however he skipped ahead of Geralt and placed his lute and his clothes by the water side. He dipped his legs in and carefully lowered himself down into the warm water up to his waist. Holding onto the edge for support. Geralt got in after him but stayed close by.

"Geralt"

Jaskier held his arms out with a smile and Geralt moved to them to grab his hands. He wrapped an arm around Jaskier's waist and pulled him to deeper waters. Jaskier wrapped one arm around Geralt's neck and let the water and Geralt carry him.

"Will you teach me how to swim?"

He asked, his voice echoed off the cavern walls along with their soft splashing. Geralt arched a brow but then he nodded.

"If you like."

Jaskier looked up at him as if he was expecting something and nodded. Geralt frowned deeper.

"You mean.. now?"

Jaskier gestured to the water surrounding them.

"Well we're here now. It's as good a time as any. Besides... It's my Name Day. Think of it as a gift that you're giving me."

Geralt tilted his head as if he was trying to solve a riddle. Jaskier blinked a few times wondering if he asked or said something weird.

"I already have a gift for you."

Jaskier pouted but at the same time he perked up.

"What is it?"

"I'm not saying. I will give it to you after dinner."

Jaskier pouted and sighed but he gave in knowing that he wouldn't be able to get Geralt to tell him the details. 

"Alright then. I also have a gift for you. Which you will get after dinner."

Geralt nodded and removed Jaskier's arm from around his neck. He let Jaskier lower onto his stomach and supported the boy's body with two hands on his stomach. Keeping him up enough to make sure he wouldn't be submerged. 

"What are you doing?"

Jaskier asked while he eyed Geralt sideways from his new position. It was a little bit scary to lay stretched in the water like this. But he trusted Geralt with his life. So he relaxed and he waited for the answer which came quickly.

"Teaching you how to swim."

Jaskier looked up with a bit of an accusing smirk slash glare and then straightened himself. Aware of the two large hands splayed across his stomach and chest to support him. 

"Okay.. Where do i start?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Thank you for still being here with me.  
> *Thank you


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know the slow burn turned to slooooow burn. But hey, Nobody likes to rush. I didn't plan the side story with Stregobor and Cahir and all that Jazz- (Why did i do so many of the things that i did? I don't know. Honestly)- but i like it. So there may still be a few bumps in the road for our two love birds before they can have happily ever after. But they will have their happy ending. I insist. (and yes i didn't put the smut tags up there for nothing. There will be that too-and SOON- so enjoy.)

* * *

"start with your legs. Instead of kicking them straight down like you're stretching, kick them in a bow inward. As if you're pushing the water out of the way."

Geralt instructed while he used his hands to keep Jaskier afloat. In the water the boy was even lighter then usual. But that didn't take away the awareness of soft skin against his roughened palms. There was enough weight to settle against his hands to make him aware of just where he was holding Jaskier. And though he tried to focus on the swimming lesson, it brought a bit of color to his face. Jaskier tried to follow the instructions while he also looked a bit flushed. Geralt couldn't really tell if it was because of the same realization or because Jaskier was making an effort to move the way Geralt told him to.

"Like this?"

Jaskier kicked his legs. A bit clumsily at first.

"A little more into a circle."

With a bit of adjustment, Jaskier kicked his leg in a proper arch. Propelling himself a bit more forward. Geralt moved with him to make sure he kept supporting Jaskier.

"Very good. Now your arms. First you stretch them out in front of you."

Jaskier followed up on that and reached out in front of him.

"Okay good. Now, it's kind of like, pushing through the bushes. You have to imagine you're pushing the water away. You bring your arms in an circle to your side. Then push them in front of you again to end up where you started."

Jaskier took a few tries but finally he seemed to get the hang of it.

"Don't forget your legs. Try them both now."

Jaskier huffed as he tried and flailed a little as he kicked and splashed attempting to let his limbs work together.

"So much to remember. It's harder then i thought."

Geralt chuckled and added a bit more pressure against Jaskier's stomach, lifting him up a little further.

"It's okay. I got you."

They spend time in the water, With Jaskier attempting to swim or simply holding onto Geralt, for a while. Until their hands and feet turned wrinkled like that of an old person. They laughed and splashed around some before they finally made their way out of the hot spring. Satisfied with the things they did today and hungry for a good dinner. The way down they leaned into each other and Jaskier tried to learn some more of Geralt's language by asking translations to particular words. The pronunciation was still difficult and every word took him at least a few tries before he got them right with an accent.

* * *

Finally having arrived back home, Geralt worked on the fire and started to make dinner when Jaskier nervously grabbed his Lute and sat down on their bed. He cleared his throat and tested every snare to see if they were still in tune. It started to look a little worn. Jaskier didn't have the polish or the oils to take care of the instrument properly. But it was better then no Lute at all.

Geralt searched for a clay pot and put it above the fire to make a special stew. After a while a wonderful scent started to drift through the cave and Jaskier felt his mouth water as he smelled it. He played some of Geralt's favorite tunes while Geralt worked on their dinner. Geralt knew some of them well enough to hum along partially. It was happening almost automatically. 

The music filled their home while Geralt carefully chopped up some carrots and potatoes to add them. He sliced some salted lambs meat into little pieces and added that too. Next were the herbs that helped to easy the salty flavor and made it more savory and full to the taste. Apart from this stew, he didn't know many other elaborate recipes. That's why they usually ate meat and baked vegetables and potatoes. Or raw vegetables and bread. Their provisions of that were getting thin however. Geralt didn't mind having to spend the winter surviving solely on meat. But he knew Jaskier needed more variety then that. The boy was human and therefor less adaptable. Humans weren't made to survive solely on meat. They would have to think of something. There was always an option of riding to a human settlement in attempt of getting some provisions there one way or another. But with Geralt being an Obrońca, that was going to be difficult. 

At least for today they had no worries. When the stew was done, Geralt produced two bowls and scooped some of the deliciously scented stew up. The steam rising in curls from the ingredients. He handed a bowl to Jaskier with a wooden spoon. Jaskier took the bowl and sniffed at it's contents. The steam curling up to reach his nose.

"This smells so good! I didn't know you could make stew. It's one of the few things i've missed."

Jaskier carefully scooped some on his spoon, blew on it to cool it off and brought the bite into his mouth. Chewing on the pieces of meat, vegetable and potato, he hummed in satisfaction. Geralt sighed a little relieved. He hadn't forgotten how to make a proper meal then. Jaskier quickly yet carefully took another bite. Making sure not to burn himself on the stew.

"Gods this is amazing. It's almost like Nana's cooking. But with different ingredients."

Geralt took his own bowl and ate but paused at the mention of Jaskier's mother. It had been a long time since they went to visit her. Jaskier saw her and she wasn't doing to well. Geralt had sensed she was weakening still, even when they were there. Perhaps he was wrong and she could have recovered. Or perhaps she had passed away like he predicted and they buried her. 

"Do you want to go down to her?"

Geralt asked while he searched Jaskier's eyes. The boy stared into the fire a bit before he looked up.

"You said she wasn't getting better. I don't know if i want to confront myself with the reality of that. The way i said goodbye to her was... it was good. I want to remember her smile. Not her headstone."

Geralt nodded. Feeling partly foolish for asking but understanding Jaskier's answer fully well. Jaskier shifted and put his bowl in his lap.

"You never actually told me anything about your parents." 

Geralt hummed and took another bite of his stew. Chewing on a carrot in thought before he replied.

"There isn't much to tell. Obrońca Lasu can't be around each other for long. My mother could tolerate my father's presence long enough to conceive me. But i don't remember him. They parted ways shortly after i was born. For his own safety no doubt. It was me and her for a while. She taught me everything i needed to know to survive on my own. I didn't know why she was so insistent on this until she ran me out of our home. To save me. I was coming of age and her maternal instinct subsided, slowly being replaced by the instinct to fight and kill another Obrońca."

Jaskier scooped up another bite and swallowed it before he asked his next question.

"That's horrible. But... i think i kind of understand. Was she... like you? A wolf i mean."

Geralt shook his head. 

"No. My father was _Wilczy Obrońca._ A wolf. Like me. But he was a common wolf. Grey in coat. My mother was a _Koński Obrońca._ Horse. Beautiful blood bay coat with a copper glow. She was a fierce and testy one. Maybe that's the reason i can understand Płotka so well."

Jaskier smiled as he tried to imagine the magnificent beings Geralt's parents must have been. Geralt smiled too as he recalled a beautiful image of his mother's beast form. Her coat shining in full sunlight. The ache of leaving her behind and having been banished by her had lessened over time. But he still missed her. 

"But... How come you are white then? If neither of your parents were white in coat."

Geralt frowned. That was a question without easy answer. He didn't know a lot about that himself.

"I don't know. Maybe one of my ancestors was a white coat. It could have skipped a generation. Maybe more. I don't know. I don't know as much about my kind as i'd like. Then again, we aren't on speaking terms with each other. It makes things difficult to learn."

Jaskier nodded with a slightly absent mind. He finished his stew and scooped up another half bowl as second serving. Geralt too took a second bowl, but a full one and they ate in silence until they were both sated and full. 

* * *

When they were done eating. Geralt cleaned up the dishes while Jaskier grabbed his Lute again. Geralt could sense the younger was a tad nervous. Although the Obrońca had no clue what for. 

"Geralt? Come sit down. I want you to listen to something."

Jaskier eventually told him. So Geralt came and he sat next to Jaskier while the boy brought his fingers to his Lute. He started playing a new melody. One that Geralt hadn't heard before. Hesitating at first, with a slight tremor in his fingers. But slowly the tremor disappeared and Jaskier played with more ease like he usually did. Geralt listened to it, allowing the music to settle in his mind when Jaskier started singing. Accompanying the tones of the Lute with words.

_I have wondered for so long_

_where it is that i belong_

_i have searched on high and low_

_for this place that i call home_

_i have wandered through the darkness_

_struggled through the heartless_

_i have fought and i have tried_

_carried on 'till i was tired_

_Now i can lay down my head_

_rest my eyes and go to bed_

_Because you gave me back the_ _hope_

_the will and strength and time to cope_

_you saved my life and set me free_

_there's no where that i'd rather be_

_than here closely by your side_

_where you will never have to hide_

_i've seen you as you are_

_every form and every scar_

_and i find no flaw, not anywhere_

_man or beast, i do not care_

_i have seen and now i know_

_that you care and that it shows_

_you protect me, keep me safe_

_gave me a home inside this cave_

_I want to thank, but i don't know_

_my words are not enough to show_

_how much i feel, how much i care_

_how much it means you being there_

_I want to share all my days_

_with you in so many ways_

_words will never be enough_

_to let you know... how much I... love.._

By the time Jaskier slowly stopped playing and had a flustered and red face while he stuttered on his last words, Geralt's eyes were watering and silent happy tears spilled from his cheeks. Jaskier's song had warmed him inside and out. Filled him with long lost feelings and new ones all together. It felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest. Like his ribcage was too tight. Like his soul came to overflow and gush out of every pore because his body simply couldn't hold him anymore. There was just too much of this feeling. So much that Geralt didn't know what to do with it. It had never been this strong and it all spilled out into every corner of his being. And all for Jaskier. The last word that came from Jaskier's lips made everything fall into place. Like a puzzle that clicked together and made a whole. Geralt felt the picture of his life complete the second he realized he loved Jaskier. He was in love with Jaskier...

"Ehm.. it's... it's ah... j-just a first draft. A bit of a rough version. I didn't have a lot of time t-to... to work on it. It's your gift.. for.. for your name day... Geralt? Why are you crying?"

Jaskier looked more worried then flustered now. Geralt quickly wiped his sleeve over his face. Attempting to dry his tears, but he felt more well up from the sheer intensity of his feelings.

"oh Jaskier.. It's... so beautiful. So... it means so much to me. I'm happy. I'm really happy."

The boy grew a darker shade of red and blushed while he smiled and put his Lute aside. 

"You scared me. I thought you were crying because it was bad."

Geralt cupped Jaskier's face and pulled him in for a kiss. One that wrecked him even more and made him more of an emotional mess.

"Jaskier.. I've never heard something so beautiful or meaningful in my life. I could have gotten no better gift."

Jaskier flew into Geralt's hold. Throwing his arms around the taller and hugged him tightly.

"I'm happy too! I'm so relieved you like it. I wasn't sure- But i needed you to know."

Geralt pulled back a little and gently brushed some of Jaskier's hair away from his blue eyes.

"Did you mean it?"

Jaskier looked up with questioning eyes.

"Mean.. what?"

Geralt chuckled and gazed into that gorgeous pair of eternal blues.

"The last words in your song."

Jaskier -if possible- blushed even deeper then before and nodded slowly. Geralt broke into a wide smile and felt his eyes sting with happy tears again. But as if the implication wasn't enough, Jaskier decided to voice his answer out loud.

"Yes Geralt. I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have no melody for the song because i made the lyrics myself. It's incredibly cheesy and not the best i've ever written but it fits the story perfectly and i doubt Jaskier is the world's best poet fresh from the crib. It takes practice so i guess i can get away with it for now. Enjoy this piece of embarrassment. >.< I hope you like it.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So i'm currently without internet because the company can't install it in my new place until June 4th. Which is not what i had hoped for. So i'm using my phone until then (which is very uncomfortable and incredibly slow). I know i don't have to rush. You darlings are more then patient and i am so lucky to have you as readers and friends and people who encourage me and brighten my day. The comments mean a lot to me. So thank you, thank you, thank you! 
> 
> ps. How many of you would be interested in a side story (not here in this one, but a new one) for Cahir and Renfri and their history? The idea of putting their history in a separate story has been playing around in my head for a while now. Which will be a small story probably around 5 chapters maybe 10. hmm.. Decisions, decisions. I'm not sure yet. Should i decide to make it i'll definitely give a heads up. It's just so weird, they never meet in the show but i ended up shipping them somehow. o.o anyway. Let me know what you guys think.

* * *

"Yes Geralt. I love you."

Jaskier realized very well the weight of the words he just let out. But he had to tell Geralt the truth. He had to tell him why he wrote that song. And even though words were hardly enough to get his feelings across, because he had so many of them and they ran so deep, he didn't want it left unsaid. He put his soul out for Geralt to see and hear in that song and when the Obrońca started crying Jaskier was wrecked with nerves because he didn't know what it meant. But once Geralt started to explain how happy he was, Jaskier suddenly understood. He felt full to bursting and maybe that's what happened to Geralt too. 

The Obrońca cupped his head and kissed him deeper. Trying to show him all the love and all his feelings that he could never get across in words or actions alone. Jaskier kissed back just as fiercely. Trying to show Geralt his soul in return. When Jaskier pulled back to breathe he took Geralt's head in his hands and bore into his golden eyes with his own blue ones. 

"Teach me. Let me say it in words that have meaning to you. Let me say it in your language."

Geralt's eyes widened and he shivered, realizing what Jaskier was asking of him. And if there was ever any doubt of Jaskier's intentions, the fire in his blue eyes erased that completely. Geralt's eyes rapidly shifted looking into Jaskier's right and left eye before settling. Geralt licked his lips and the words slowly spilled from him in clear audible shape.

_"Kocham Cię."_

Geralt replied with a rough and shaking voice. Jaskier let his fingers slide into Geralt's white hair. Never breaking eye contact. Letting the words settle in his mind. Their meaning, their weight, their shape and form. And he adapted by forming his own lips around those sounds and echoed them right back at Geralt.

" _Kocham Cię, Geralt."_

Jaskier repeated. Geralt barely let him finish before he surged forward and captured Jaskier's lips again. Kissing him with a passion before he replied.

" _też cię kocham... Jaskier.._ I-.. I love you too."

Jaskier felt his heartbeat thunder in his ears and rush through his veins. His pulse hammering away in his throat, drumming against his chest. Geralt pulled their heads together.

"I love you."

He repeated. And Jaskier felt those words wreck through his entire being. It made him shiver. He crawled closer into Geralt's lap. Their lips found each other again. Feverish and needy. Jaskier felt he was going to drown into the kisses. Geralt barely let him come up for air. But he didn't care. Only when he started to become a little dizzy from all the kisses they shared did Geralt pull them apart enough for them to take a few deep breaths. Panting, and both of them flustered and their features dusted with a blush. 

"I have... I have something for you."

Geralt could barely speak, his voice slightly rough and trembling after the kisses. And barely enough breath in his lungs to form the words. He reached behind him to a package that Jaskier had overlooked. Since it was wrapped in furs it looked like a part of the decor. Geralt set it between them. Creating a little more space between them again. Though Jaskier didn't agree with the distance at all, his curiosity won over his dissatisfaction. Jaskier looked up with questioning eyes. Geralt gave him no hints what so ever. All he said was:

"Happy name day Jaskier."

The boy looked down at the package, held together with two pieces of twine. He untied the knots carefully and pulled them apart, discarding them somewhere beside him. Then he carefully lifted the fur from the item inside and gasped as it came to view. It was a beautiful dark wood Lute Case. Clearly handcrafted with as much care and detail as one could possibly manage. It was littered with the same beautiful and detailed patterns as appeared on the rest of their furniture and additions in their home. And in the center laid a delicate flower carving that brought the design together. Jaskier let his finger slide over the finely carved details, breathless from their beauty. His eyes misted over with silent tears of happiness as his fingers worked to carefully open the lid. The inside was lined with the softest fur Jaskier had ever felt. Measured and made to fit precisely to protect the Lute that was to be placed inside. Jaskier's fingers trembled as they traced the softness of it.

"Oh my god... Geralt... It's... It's gorgeous. No it's beautiful! Not even that it's... I have no words.."

Geralt smiled softly and reached for Jaskier's Lute. He handed it to the boy without words and Jaskier chuckled airily in amazement as the instrument seamlessly sunk into the Case. Snugly fitting inside with a little space at the neck to be able to take it out of the case again. Jaskier closed the lid and stared at the object speechless for a long minute. Then he looked up at Geralt, he placed the case gently aside and launched himself at the Obrońca. Falling around his neck and littering him with pecks and kisses repeating 'Thank you' and 'I love you' over and over again in Geralt's own language. Geralt hugged him tight. Returning the kisses he could. Those that were hastily placed on his lips before the rest of his face was covered in quick warm kisses. He parroted the 'I love you's' to Jaskier. Each telling the other in the other's native language how much they loved each other, over and over again. 

* * *

Their lips met and met and it seemed that neither knew how to stop anymore. Geralt let himself lower backwards with his arms full of Jaskier. Laying down with the boy on top of him. Jaskier let himself get lost in the sensation of kissing Geralt passionately. Tasting him, smelling him, feeling him. Every single one of his senses filled with the white haired Obrońca. The longer it went on, the more they calmed. And the quick rushed and fierce kisses were replaced by long and deep passionate slow dances of their lips. Exploring parts of their mouths they hadn't ventured to before. Jaskier's hands mostly caressed Geralt's face or shoulders or tangled in his hair, his fingertips ghosting over the base of Geralt's horns. And each passing on them made the Obrońca shiver. Geralt had his arms wrapped around Jaskier's waist. Sometimes bringing a hand up to the base of his neck, clawed fingertips scratching softly at the back of his head. But always keeping him in place. 

When they finally pulled away long enough to look into each other's eyes, Geralt let his eyes roam over Jaskier's face. The beautiful blue eyes were swirling with light and love. His cheeks were red with a deep blush. Redder even were his lips who were kiss swollen and glossy wet from their exchange. Jaskier looked into Geralt's eyes. Feeling the heat creep to his face, realizing his position as well as being confronted with the most beautiful sight he ever saw. Geralt himself was flushed with a slight pinkish hue against his pale skin. His yellow eyes were glimmering like molten gold, gazing at him with adoration and care and so much more. All those emotions open for Jaskier to read left the boy breathless. Geralt's white hair laid splayed out around him like a silver white halo crowning his head. The horns raising from the strands looked whiter then usual, but it could be a trick of the light. 

Wordlessly they stared into each other's eyes. Speaking without talking. Listening without words or sound. Geralt took one of Jaskier's hands and brought it to his lips. He kissed the palm before he pulled down the low neck of his shirt a little and settled Jaskier's hand on the bare skin over his heart. Jaskier gasped as he felt the warmth of the skin and the quickened rhythm of Geralt's strong heart under his fingertips. And somehow, Even without knowing much about tradition or culture or other meaningful rituals that belonged to the Obrońca Lasu, Jaskier knew Geralt just gave him his heart. Jaskier wished he knew how to respond to that. He wished he knew more about Geralt's race. He wished he knew more about Geralt's love language. Even though he was learning to speak in ancient tongue it still felt like he could barely say anything in the right language at all.

For now, he could respond the only way he knew how. He kissed Geralt softly. A silent promise, that he would be responsible in his new ownership. That he would treat Geralt's heart with love and care. Then he kissed the inside of Geralt's palm. Wanting to return the gesture. Jaskier's own shirt however did not give the same room for Geralt's large palm to lay over his heart without anything but skin underneath the textured pads of his fingers. So instead of tugging it down, Jaskier pulled the hand under his shirt, settling it on the skin over his heart. Heat and warmth searing through him. And a sensation like little lightning bolts emitted from the touch. Geralt's eyes watered slightly but his face showed nothing but pure joy. They were definitely happy tears hiding away in the corners shy of the golden orbs in the center.

Tenderly Geralt kissed Jaskier on his head and then carefully tugged at the hem of the boy's shirt. Jaskier bit his lip but raised his arms as he let the Obrońca take it off him. Geralt turned, switching their positions as he gently lowered Jaskier on the furs covering their bed. He laid to the side of Jaskier so his weight would not come to crush the boy. The only thing that hovered over Jaskier was Geralt's upper body as he placed one hand on the other side of Jaskier to support himself. The Obrońca leaned down and pressed his lips where his hand had been. Jaskier gasped as he felt those warm lips settle directly over his heart, pressing a gesture of love and affection on it like a seal. The tingling intensified a little and Jaskier's heart sped up with a small leap of joy. Geralt turned his head side ways. Pressing his cheek and ear to Jaskier's chest, resting on the first dusting of soft hairs that announced Jaskier's coming of age. 

Jaskier tried to figure out what Geralt was doing, but when he looked down and saw Geralt's eyes closed and his face relaxed, the boy figured out that the Obrońca was listening to his heartbeat. Jaskier reached down, carding his fingers through the soft white strands of Geralt's hair. Massaging the scalp and the base of the horns. He traced their roughened bony texture all the way to the tip and back down. Absentmindedly tracing the ridges and bumps. Which made Geralt let out a happy sigh. The feeling in his horns was dull compared to other parts of his body. But they were definitely not dead growth. There was feeling in them. Enough to feel when someone was touching them. 

A low rumble came from deep within Geralt's chest. One that was an echo outside of the satisfied and content rumble the beast let out within him. Jaskier let out a light chuckle but he didn't stop nor pause his soft stroking. Geralt turned his head again to bury his face in Jaskier's chest in embarrassment. Inhaling his scent instead. It didn't help. Jaskier smelled so nice it also made the beast rumble with pleased noises. Some of which were strong enough to cause an echo in Geralt himself. He looked up into Jaskier's eyes. Finding them twinkling with little amused lights. Jaskier grabbed Geralt's head and pulled him closer, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He thought it was adorable. But he decided against voicing that. Geralt would only hide away further if he did. 

Geralt claimed Jaskier's lips and kissed along the boy's jaw. Littering it with small gestures of affection. He traced to Jaskier's neck which made the human squirm a little and giggle. Jaskier never had anyone who treated him this way, so he wasn't used to the ticklish yet pleasant tingling feeling of having his neck kissed. It was both sensitive and exciting and he was stuck between wanting to pull away from the tickling and craning his neck to feel more. He tried to do the latter but even when he craned his neck he still squirmed, quite unused to the fluttery feeling of a set of lips in his neck. Until Geralt halted.

Jaskier was about to turn his head to see why when he felt those lips settle over a familiar place. His bitemark. The one Geralt put there the first night, when he wasn't in control. It had hurt back then. And the memory of that pain made Jaskier bite his lip softly. He couldn't blame Geralt. It hadn't been a thing he did on purpose. But confronted with the scar of that incident, the memories floated back into Jaskier's mind on their own. And the human couldn't stop it. Although Geralt was so soft with him now, and this gesture was probably meant as a silent wish to kiss it better or even the wish that the mark would fade away, it made Jaskier a tad uncomfortable. He pulled Geralt's head away and shook his head.

"Not there. Not.. Not yet.."

He whispered softly. His hands wiping some of Geralt's loose strands out of his face. For a fleeting moment, hurt crossed Geralt's eyes. It went by too quickly for Jaskier to decipher what kind of hurt it was. Whether it was guilt for his past actions or whether it was the way Jaskier denied him the chance to make up for it. But then Geralt calmed and he nodded. He understood the struggle. Especially since he had so many scars that could invoke the same kind of reaction. This time, guilt ghosted over a different mind altogether. Jaskier felt slightly guilty for denying Geralt the access to that section of his body. To even in some way, not completely trust him around that particular patch of skin. But the scar was too fresh. He needed some time.

Instead of forcing the issue, Geralt took their focus and shifted it by sitting up. He pulled off his shirt, letting it fall to the side somewhere and he laid down beside Jaskier. The human turned his head and gazed at the revealed body. the firelight basked Geralt in a golden glow, save for the part where Jaskier's body cast a shadow on his. Jaskier turned on his side. Laying face to face with the Obrońca. Geralt gazed back at him. His eyes seemed to take their time to take in Jaskier's form. His body, his features, his face.. In turn Jaskier cataloged every detail on Geralt's skin with his eyes. The many scars that had their own stories, Geralt's build, his sharp jawline.. Jaskier hesitantly reached out a hand and traced them from Geralt's temple to his jaw, drawing a line over his neck to his shoulder where Jaskier's fingertips found the first of his many scars littered on his upper body. The boy looked up into Geralt's eyes. Watching for any signs this was not okay. But Geralt gave no hint towards his dislike of this exploration. So Jaskier continued.

His fingertips slowly moved over marred skin. The ridges and bumps of it, the dents, the uneven patches, they all revealed themselves under the pads of Jaskier's fingertips. He explored them. Trying to map the parts his eyes couldn't really see. Geralt closed his eyes. Focusing solely on the feeling of warm fingertips sliding over his skin. He knew the story of each of these scars. And every scar touched brought that story forward in his mind. But the memories were far away. After so long he didn't remember them as vividly as he did before. He had learned to distance himself mentally and emotionally from the history of his scars. But he would never allow himself to forget. When the hand traveled over his arm and paused, hovering over his wrist, Geralt cracked his eyes open again. Jaskier was looking at him with a seemingly searching gaze. As if the boy was trying to figure something out. Jaskier took a breath but then he grabbed Geralt's hand and brought it to his hip. 

The warmth of the callous palm burned on Jaskier's skin. But in a good way. Geralt's fingers laid directly over another set of scars that Jaskier had gotten that first night. The half moons of Geralt's nails where they had dug into his hip. Geralt lifted his hand until only his fingertips remained on Jaskier's skin and he traced each of the five little crescent marks on Jaskier's hip. He knew there was an identical set on Jaskier's other hip. The boy sighed softly but he let Geralt explore. He didn't feel the kind of knot tie in the pit of his stomach when Geralt touched these scars. He could make peace with them quite easily. Why that wasn't the case for the scar on Jaskier's neck, the boy didn't know. 

" _Przepraszam..._ "

Geralt whispered softly. Jaskier didn't have to ask what it meant. A part of him already knew. And he shook his head.

"Me too. For these..."

He replied as he let his fingers slide over fresh scars left by the fight with Stregobor and his men. Geralt arched a brow. Jaskier apologized for scars and pain that weren't made by him. They were not his fault. He opened his mouth to reply but as he looked into Jaskier's blue eyes he fell silent. Jaskier was trying to make a point. It wasn't Geralt's fault either. The Obrońca sighed softly and smiled as he pulled Jaskier closer. Fitting their bodies together. Jaskier would never let him wallow in guilt or let him suffer. The stubborn boy always made sure Geralt understood that he shouldn't beat himself up over things like this anymore. And he loved him for it. 

Jaskier turned his head, snuggling against Geralt's chest to feel his heat, let his skin be tickled by the softness of the hairs littering his skin and he listened to the steady heartbeat. Geralt's arms came around him like protective armor. Within them Jaskier felt safe as if nothing could touch him. With that feeling Jaskier slowly drifted off to sleep. And it wasn't long before Geralt followed him to the realm of dreams. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I love you  
> * I love you   
> * I love you too  
> * I'm sorry


	32. NOT AN UPDATE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not a new chapter!

But don't you worry. This isn't a tease or a message that I'm quitting. I'm not! I will start updating again around the end of August. With a new chapter coming out somewhere this week! 

I had a bit of a turbulent time in real life. Which happens. It changed my schedule in such a way that i had to prioritize different things. I won't bore you with the details. Everything is calming down however so i have time to get back to doing hobby things and time to go back to writing. Which is important and an outlet for me. 

Hence the reason i will try to go back to regular updates again. I know it's not a must. Lord knows you readers are more then patient, sweet and supportive. And I'm so happy for all the love I'm getting from you. But it's something I've decided to do because it's important to me.

I'm also getting back in touch with my wonderful translator. To keep the Polish lines as accurate as possible. And to bounce ideas back and forth should i get stuck. For now i know where i want the story to go and how to get there so I'm all set to continue this adventure. 

Thank you all for your sweet messages, sticking with me and above all your endless patience. 

*hugs*


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As promised. A new and sexy update.

* * *

You'd say aging a year shouldn't be such a dramatic change. But for Jaskier, when he woke the next morning, it felt like he woke up to a whole new life. A year ago at age 17, he was still tucked away in a farm in a village that was too small to be exciting. Now a year later, having turned 18 the day before, here he was in a home up the mountain, with the company of a firemare and a shared life with his dear one. An Obrońca Lasu no less. They had confessed their feelings and they were growing ever closer as days passed. Trust was building between them and though it was nothing like the love stories Jaskier heard as a child, he felt their bond was just as strong as that of the characters in the stories. If not stronger.

The events that had happened since Jaskier got here had changed his view on the world and on his hopes and dreams for the future. Though his personality was still the same, he could say with confidence that this past year had made him a new person. A person that was no longer alone. He was considered a young adult now according to society's rules. But he still felt like he had a long way to go. Mentally and physically. Although the signs had progressed while he was here. The shape of his body had changed. Where he was somewhat boyish and softly shaped before, muscles were starting to form and define his body in sharper lines. Soft little hairs started to litter his chest more and more. They tickled his arm when he slept with a hand folded beneath his head and his arm pressed to his torso. The other side of it was tickled by a matching dusting of soft hair gracing Geralt's chest. Jaskier opened his eyes as the realization of that feeling settled in. They both fell asleep pressed together, half naked.

Jaskier bit his lip while his mouth corners curled up at the thought. Trying to suppress a giddy giggle. He never really had a lover before. This was all so new that sometimes he barely knew what to do with all these new feelings and thoughts. Geralt stirred a little and let out a huff in his sleep. Jaskier smiled, gazing at the peaceful sleeping face inches above him. He leaned up and pressed his lips on Geralt's in a warm peck. A hum disguised as a sleepy groan left the Obrońca as he stirred again and slowly opened up his eyes. He smiled back and pulled Jaskier's body a little closer to his own. A firmer grip pressing them together. They laid together for a while to allow themselves to fully wake up before they started their day.

* * *

A few weeks passed with a calm and steady pace. Autumn had turned the landscape into a range of different colors all blending into a beautiful but surreal view. The forest surrounding their home looked a lot different like this. And yet Jaskier had come to know it well enough to be able to find his way alone now. It was growing ever colder and Geralt had changed their blanket to a one of thicker furs and more layers. Jaskier had come to love curling up to the Obrońca at night for multiple reasons. Him providing warmth on the side where the fire did not was an added perk. They often shared a string of kisses before going to sleep. Holding onto each other and hugging intimately. There was a slight hesitation hanging in the air each time they did this. Hovering them just on the edge of what was still familiar and safe. Keeping it from escalating into something further. Although Jaskier wasn't sure why. It's not like he didn't want anything to happen. It just... felt so weird. 

Then again they might just not reach the tipping point because Geralt felt guilty for losing control that first night. Maybe he was afraid of triggering something. Or perhaps he was afraid he still couldn't control himself. They hadn't discussed it so Jaskier couldn't be certain. But it wasn't just an issue from Geralt's side. The closer they got the more Jaskier thought about what it meant for him. And what it was that he was feeling. What was happening to him and even if it was normal. He was a virgin. How would he know? He knew a few things here and there but the whole concept of intimacy wasn't something openly discussed where he came from. He had picked up things here and there from the traders journeying through their village. When they were drunk and filled with a good meal the bragging would start of their adventures and sometimes their conquests. 

Although Jaskier managed to listen in on this 'inappropriate banter' as Nana called it. The drunk merchants often only spoke of women. And the coupling of a man and a woman. In this case, it didn't help Jaskier much. But he figured at least some things must be the same. Then he started to wonder if Geralt knew. He was much, much older. And though he had been alone for centuries, Jaskier wondered about his past experiences. But then he realized that Geralt had mentioned something about it before. That there was a season for animals to couple, and because of the beast forms and spirit animals of the Obrońca, they had this season too. He also remembered that Geralt had been troubled by it before. On the night they first met and possibly with the girls he was given as well.

Geralt had spoken with him about it. He mentioned that not all of them triggered the same response. Mostly the older girls who were of the right age to bleed. This seemed to be a trigger of some sort. Why he was triggered with Jaskier, when it was clear he was a boy and there for didn't bleed, Geralt didn't know. The Obrońca suspected it might have had something to do with his animal form. Considering his head had become more clear after he marked Jaskier. A mark Jaskier still carried, as it was scarred into his shoulder. It was the only thing that troubled Jaskier when they were intimate together. Touching and kissing like they were, it was the only place he was hesitant to let Geralt reach again. Because it brought him back to that night. He had long since forgiven Geralt for it. And that was not the issue he had to face. The problem was that even forgiveness did not make the memories go away. The only way to do that was to replace them with good memories. Which both of them were still a little hesitant to do. 

* * *

One particular cold night brought them closer together. Jaskier was caught between the warmth of the fire at his back and the warmth of the Obrońca at his front. He was covered with a nice thick fur blanket and still he managed to shiver. It was colder up here in the mountain then it had been in the valley. Even in the winter, the wooden farm walls and fires, blankets and straw beds kept him warm in the village. Things were different here. Even though the bed was raised and there were furs below them and covering them, the air was colder. The stone walls did not keep the cavern as warm as wooden walls would have. Even with the fire at his back, Jaskier felt a chill on even the smallest patch of skin sticking out of the fur blanket. And it was not yet winter. Geralt seemed to have no trouble with the cold. Of course, he had lived here a lot longer and was probably used to the climate. Or perhaps it was his own body that kept him from the cold, as he felt warmer to the touch then usual. Which went the opposite way when it was warm outside. Then Geralt's body seemed to be cool and resistant of the heat.

Jaskier curled up a bit more, trying to stay warm. It caused the Obrońca to stir and though Jaskier didn't mean to wake him, Geralt cracked an eye open. The soft golden glow of his eye was laced with the remnants of sleep, but behind it a light was clearly on already. Geralt opened his other eye as well. The same beautiful gold appeared and looked down at Jaskier who laid curled up and shivering, tucked away against Geralt's body. 

"Jaskier?"

The boy smiled. His blue eyes, tired but awake, reflecting the dim light of the fire bouncing around the cave. 

"I'm okay. Sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep."

Geralt arched a brow and huffed at Jaskier trying to brush it off like it was nothing.

"You're shivering. Did you have a nightmare?"

Jaskier crawled a bit closer and shook his head.

"No. Never in your arms. I'm just cold."

Geralt wrapped his arm around Jaskier. The heavenly warmth of him seeped into Jaskier's skin right away. 

"Turn around, I can warm you."

Jaskier pouted. He wanted warmth yes but if he turned around he couldn't see Geralt's face. The Obrońca chuckled. He pushed on Jaskier's shoulder a little and the smaller grumbled and reluctantly turned himself around. Feeling how Geralt used the strong arm around him to pull him back against him into an embrace that wrapped all around him. And oh... the warmth. Even through his night shirt, which Jaskier had put on because he was cold, he could feel the heat from Geralt's body spreading on his back. The arm around hims provided a little extra underneath the blanket that covered them both. Geralt pulled his legs up, pressing against Jaskier's curled up form as much as he could. Effectively enveloping him. 

"oh.."

Jaskier hummed and snuggled further into the hold. This was so much better. 

"Wait hold on."

Jaskier sat up, instantly regretting the loss of warmth. But there was a purpose to this. He pulled the night shirt over his head and laid it to the side. Quickly crawling back under the blankets and into Geralt's hold again. A satisfied sigh slipped passed his lips as the skin on skin contact now made the warmth so much more effective. It was more intense and it relaxed Jaskier's body entirely. He stopped shivering and his muscles slacked as he allowed himself to enjoy the position they were in. 

"You're so warm"

Jaskier mumbled happily as Geralt wrapped around him tightly and covered him in warmth as much as he was able. Geralt chuckled softly. A low rumble that vibrated in his chest in a way that Jaskier felt it tingle against his back.

"Perks of being an Obrońca i guess. I've never been bothered by the weather. Unless it really rises or drops to extremes."

"Lucky you. I have to depend on other things to keep me warm or cold."

Geralt curled a little tighter around Jaskier. His face inches away from Jaskier's ear. 

"I'll keep you warm"

He whispered. His voice low and a deep vibrating hum that made Jaskier shiver from head to toe with a heated tingle that reached into every cell of his being. The heat traveled up to his cheeks and warmed them with a rosy color. It left a weirdly warm feeling pooling in his belly. A tingling he only felt a few times before. When he had dreamed something extremely pleasant. But he wasn't dreaming. No, right now, he was wide awake.

"Still cold?"

Geralt asked softly. Jaskier wanted to reply, but a second wave of that heat pooling in the pit of his stomach left him unable to speak and he shook his head. Curling up a bit further, his arms sliding around his stomach. Hoping the feeling would subside like that. But with Geralt all around him and the Obrońca's scent slowly washing over him, the feeling persisted. It refused to go away. Geralt being right behind him, nose nearly in his neck, was not helping. The Obrońca was breathing slowly, the hot air of his breath ghosting over Jaskier's neck. His nose inching towards the base of Jaskier's hair. A content rumble slowly and softly making it out of Geralt, like a content purr. Jaskier closed his eyes to the sound and the feeling of it vibrating from the chest pressed against his back. Feeling warm and safe and content but also on edge with something he just couldn't really name or describe. He knew what it was and yet, it never felt like this. It ran so much deeper then his usual teenage hormones kicking up. 

Geralt seemed overcome with a desire to imprint the scent into his memory. That or he just really liked the way Jaskier smelled. He pressed his nose in Jaskier's neck. Softly inhaling the scent that lingered there. It made goosebumps form on Jaskier's skin who lowered his head a little to give Geralt more space. He laid still yet managed to press his own body more into the one behind him. Geralt's arm that was draped over him was positioned in such a way that his fingertips were resting on a patch of Jaskier's stomach. His fingers moved slowly. The pads running circles on the softness they could reach. Jaskier hummed softly, content and yet on edge with something. The nosing turned into lips softly touching his skin. Carefully exploring. Tasting. Nibbling. In his neck, to the side reaching that spot behind his ear that made Jaskier shiver again. Grazing the shell of his ear slightly. It spread heat in such a way that made Jaskier forget all about the cold. He didn't even feel it anymore. 

He craned his neck, trying to give Geralt more space to work his magic. Whatever he was doing, it worked to keep the cold away and it just ignited something in Jaskier that asked for more of that feeling that the Obrońca brought. Geralt avoided a spot on his shoulder, and though Jaskier's thoughts were beginning to turn slightly hazy, he recognized it as the bite mark which he earlier on had marked as a limitation. Not allowing Geralt near it. He wondered if it still triggered the same response. Jaskier reached up, a hand sliding into silver white hair, grazing the base of horns as he attempted to guide Geralt to that patch that had caused a pause before. Geralt seemed hesitant, but once Jaskier gently pulled his head down by a single horn, the Obrońca very carefully set his lips on the mark. Just touching at first. Providing nothing else but soft contact and warmth. Jaskier took a breath, he tried to focus on the feeling, but he noted that... he didn't hate it. 

Geralt's lips began slow, moving softly, mouthing at the marked skin, Tracing the lines of his own teeth print. As if to kiss it better. Jaskier still had his eyes closed, enabling him to focus solely on the feel of it. He didn't hate this either. Perhaps it was finally time. Relief washed over the boy at the thought. No limitations, no hesitation... He could finally let go of that. He felt like he was ready. 

Geralt handled him with care, even if Jaskier was the one to bring him in to explore where he couldn't before. It filled him with a warm longing. A wish to share things with Jaskier they hadn't shared before. But it also filled him with a need to be cautious. His own desires were what they were, but he would need to brush them aside if they would be harmful to Jaskier. Geralt let the boy decide the pace. Once again they were in each other's embrace. Hovering on the edge of the familiar intimate territory they had explored several times before. Always on the very edge of escalation. Never quite ready to reach the tipping point. But tonight, the air felt different, their bodies were charged with an energy, familiar and yet foreign. Gearing up for something. Perhaps they would reach the tipping point and fall from the edge together soon. 

Jaskier squirmed at Geralt's touch. Geralt's lips on his skin made him feel feverish and yet it felt so good that he leaned in, reaching for more. Warmth turned into heat. It burned wherever their skin touched, but in a good way. Just as Jaskier thought he couldn't take the endless barrage of kisses on his skin, Geralt reached for his face and cupped it, turning his head so the Obrońca could connect their lips. Kissing Jaskier over his shoulder. Jaskier responded instantly. His arm sought out that of Geralt draped over him. Lacing their fingers together as Geralt kissed him, still pressed up behind him. They kissed, deep and slow, quick and playful. They kissed like no one else existed in the world. They kissed in a way that was familiar and yet it felt like the kiss was new. It tingled, it burned and it addicted. And Jaskier, unsatisfied with the angle that prevented any more depth to the kisses, turned in Geralt's hold. Sliding his arms around the Obrońca's neck to hold him closer, tighter. Allowing no escape. But even if he'd let go of Geralt completely, the Obrońca was as reluctant to move away as Jaskier. Geralt's strong and steady arms caged the boy in tighter. Pressing them together firmly. So that every bit that touched was felt and shared heat and pressure. Yes.. this could be the tipping point.


	34. Chapter 34

Neither of them could seem to get enough. Their lips met again and again without ever growing tired of the taste or the heat shared between them. The effect never dimming. It thrilled them both like it was the first kiss they shared, every single time. Jaskier had been so absorbed with this age old dance between them that it took him a bit to notice a growing pressure against his body. Knowing the Obrońca as a male, it should have come as no surprise that this was the natural reaction Geralt's body would give in such an intimate moment. And yet Jaskier found himself gasping softly. Which only allowed him to drown even deeper into intimacy as Geralt slipped his tongue between Jaskier's lips. Claiming them completely. Somewhere far into the back of Jaskier's mind he realized that if he focused enough he could find his own body in a similar state. But in the haze of the kisses he found himself unwilling to focus or pay too much attention. It saved him from feeling embarrassed or becoming aware of what intimacy they were leaning towards. He didn't want to think. He wanted to feel. Thinking would cause too many side paths. Too many distractions. And possibly call up too many hesitations. They had been dancing around this and each other for a while now and Jaskier decided that he was done waiting. 

They had hovered on the edge so many times. A clear longing of wanting to share themselves with the other, so evident within their actions and yet neither of them actually bold enough to take charge to see that desire fulfilled. Jaskier took it upon himself to take the first step. And Geralt seemed comfortable with that. Following his pace, his rhythm. Picking up cues and little signals in their silent communication to lead them further. After all, he had the experience, but Jaskier had the timing and the pace. While their mouths met again and again, their hands traveled exploring their exposed skin. Geralt let his hands roam over Jaskier's back, using it at the same time as a means to pull Jaskier tighter against his body. Adding more to the pressure between them. And Jaskier let himself be pulled in. Pressing his own body in to find more of those waves of heat and tingling sensations that washed over him each time they pressed together a little tighter. They were rolling, like waves. Pushing and pulling. Strengthening and lessening the pressure between them. Jaskier let his hands roam over Geralt's arms, shoulders, his broad chest, his neck, gripping in his hair, feathering over the base of his horns. 

* * *

And then Geralt did something, He had his hands low, lower then before. Curling around the curve of Jaskier's ass, and he squeezed a little while pulling Jaskier against him. And _oh.._ Jaskier bit his lip as the pressure increased again, intensely this time. Pushing his front to Geralt's. Their lover halves meeting. It released a rush that started from where their clothed manhoods were pressed together, and it exploded into a rush that traveled fast like light into every direction of Jaskier's body. It made him feel light headed and it made his toes curl. It made the air rush out of his lungs in a soft but clear moan. Geralt stilled a little, breaths coming out in short bursts. Jaskier was panting in an equal pace. Shyly he pushed his hips forward. Trying to find that same feeling. And he succeeded, not only in feeling that rush himself, but he heard Geralt's breath hitch a little when he did it. Geralt turned his eyes to Jaskier's. Finding them and making contact with them. He was silently searching for signs. Communicating without words. Jaskier looked back up at him. No hesitation or discomfort in his eyes. Just a quiet plea for more. A soft need that Geralt understood all too well.

They wrapped their arms around each other as they returned to a deep kiss. Their lips dancing while their hips slowly started to do the same. Rolling into each other again and again. Pressure dimming and building like the push and pull of the tide. Geralt hummed deep. A rumble in his chest so low it seemed to come from depths Jaskier had never known existed until now. It vibrated against his skin. His own sounds were not so deep in tone perhaps, but equally deep in meaning and just as genuine. Geralt squeezed again and Jaskier arched into him. Reeling from the wave of pleasure that rolled from it. Because that's what it was. It felt so good already. Just being near him, laying against him, being touched by him. And to be driven at least a little mad by him. The feeling was intense yes, but there was the issue of having a barrier of clothes between them that was just present enough to make it a little frustrating. 

Geralt seemed to be ahead of Jaskier in that particular problem. The boy felt it when he felt Geralt's hands dip into the back of his breeches. The roughened pads of his fingers sliding over bare skin. Jaskier gasped and moved into the touch with his hips. It was tight, considering the piece of clothing was still tied at the front. A thing Jaskier quickly wanted to remedy. He pried at the lacing without looking, fumbling with the knots of the cord. Geralt slowed him when a hand covered his. A silent way of saying: let me. Jaskier however was not one to sit idly by and let Geralt do all the work. It was this way in everything. Though he was the human and thus more fragile, tired more easily and less strong, he would never let it hold him back. It was clear in their work in the garden, the house, the chores divided between them. Geralt had learned this too. And he knew Jaskier would not be swayed to be doted upon and let everything be done for or to him. So it was no surprise that instead of untying his own breeches, Jaskier's restless fingers went to the cord of Geralt's breeches instead. It even earned him a soft chuckle from the Obrońca. 

Jaskier felt his face heat up in response. The dusting of red reaching not only his cheeks but all the way up to the tip of his ears. And yet, he was determined. While Geralt patiently undid the lacing of Jaskier's breeches, Jaskier fumbled through the knots in Geralt's breeches. Undoing them with a slight tremor in his fingers. Geralt stilled. Only when he once again placed a hand on Jaskier's, did the boy look up with questioning eyes. Only then did he notice he was shaking slightly. A light tremor running through his body. From what he couldn't tell. Was it nerves? eagerness? tension? Anticipation? He didn't really know. It could be a combination of things. After all... It was the first time. But if he really took a minute to check how he was feeling, he did know for certain that he was still okay. He didn't want to stop. Not yet. 

* * *

Geralt let him settle by kissing him first. Jaskier allowed himself to relax once more and focused on the kiss. Even when the weight of Geralt's hand settled on his stomach, he was calm, breathing through his nose, focusing on his lips to move with the Obrońca's. Geralt's hand slowly ventured lower. His fingertips carefully and lightly travelling over Jaskier's skin. With a little of Jaskier's help, Geralt had managed to cut his nails in a way that they were no longer clawed. But with enough pressure they were still sharp. So the Obrońca was careful when he let his hands travel. Once he reached the patch of skin right under Jaskier's navel the boy's muscles reacted and he sucked his stomach in a little. Moaning slightly with a feeling that hovered just between good and ticklish. 

When Geralt finally reached within the fabric, Jaskier hid his face in Geralt's neck. Breathing heavily while he focused on the hand that pushed down his breeches a little and trailed towards his erection. He whimpered and bit his lip when he felt the Obrońca slide his warm fingers around the base. It felt... odd. Jaskier touched himself before of course. What teenage boy didn't? But that was so different from having someone else do it. To feel warm digits wrap around him for the first time without it being his own hand made him feel oddly vulnerable and even more heated. He couldn't help but move his hips a little. Squirming. Not being able to decide between pulling away a little or pushing into the hold. He grabbed onto Geralt's shoulders, trying to even out his breathing but... the touch made him nervous. 

Geralt felt it. He felt Jaskier tense a little under his touch. He turned his head to press gentle kisses on the mop of brown hair tucked just under his chin. He himself despite knowing what it was to lay with someone, felt nervous. He hadn't had a willing partner in decades. And they had not been male. There was a necromancer who had been around him for a while. And a witch before that. But these experiences were not comparable to the boy he had in his arms now. He had taken to his previous lovers arms because he was lonely. He held Jaskier now because he loved him. There was a clear difference. Not just in body, but in feeling. In... in everything really. He took it slow, knowing of what felt good on himself, he could attempt to see if Jaskier felt good that way too. But it was searching and testing for the right things. Considering doing this, with him, was in fact new. 

Jaskier took a deep breath and relaxed a little. Geralt felt the tension slowly seep out from the body he held, though not quite 100%. He kept an arm around Jaskier, safely tucking him away against his own body. Giving the younger a space to hide into if he felt it was all just a little too much. Geralt moved his hand slow. He took Jaskier out of his breeches. Slowly trailing his fingers over Jaskier's erection. Just mapping him out at first, getting used to feeling him and touching him there, while he also allowed Jaskier to get used to being touched in such a way. Jaskier still hid, his face buried in Geralt's neck. While slowly breathing in his scent to keep calm about having the Obrońca touching him in such an intimate manner. The boy clawed at Geralt's shoulders, breathing deeply and squirming in his touch. Quiet moans left him and his hips bucked on occasion. 

It felt good. It felt really good. Slowly Jaskier felt like he got used to the way his body twitched in delight when Geralt stroked him. Or how he bucked when Geralt twisted his fingers in a certain way. It felt so much better then anything he had ever done on his own. He let his legs fall open and slowly grew bold enough to come out of his hiding spot and return some of Geralt's soothing kisses. Yet he was still too shy to return any intimate gesture. Other then the untying of Geralt's breeches he didn't feel confident enough to let his hands wander. Even though he wanted to do more, he couldn't bring himself to explore like that yet. Geralt was gentle with him and yet it wasn't just because he was taking it slow. Geralt seemed to give off a bit of that nervousness himself. Then Jaskier realized and reminded himself of the fact that Geralt -apart from unwanted events- had probably not done this in a long time. If ever. Jaskier didn't know. That way it was new to them both. The thought of it being new not just to him helped ease him a little more.

* * *

Jaskier almost made a noise of protest when Geralt let go of him. But soon he found it was to make them a little more comfortable by taking his breeches and small clothes off. Again Jaskier felt vulnerable, now being completely naked in front of a man he had come to love so dearly. He felt his heart race with heavy beats when Geralt slid out of his own clothes as well. There was a light hesitation. Jaskier laying down, Geralt sitting beside him. They looked at each other for a moment. The reality of their state setting in. It was Jaskier who held out a hand. And when Geralt took it, extended the other one as well. Inviting the Obrońca to come back into his arms. Geralt responded by kissing him. Connecting their upper bodies and slowly letting a hand slide back to where it was before. Jaskier gasped when he was touched again. Slowly he let his own hands wander. Tracing down a path from scar to scar. His fingertips tracing them while he went from Geralt's chest to his sides, down to his hips. 

Geralt moved over him. His body covering Jaskier's. Their kisses turned deeper and more heated. Somewhere in the back of Jaskier's mind, something started to change. An uncomfortable feeling rising up to twist the rest. He willed it away. Pushed it down as far as he could. Not now. Not in this moment. They had come further then they had ever gone. He didn't want to stop. He was ready. He had to be. But it was when a deep rumble came from Geralt's chest, almost like a purr from the beast that the discomfort flared up full force. Accompanied with flash backs from a night Jaskier didn't want to remember. He had forgiven Geralt for it a long time ago. Why did it come to spoil his night now? The feeling of Geralt's naked body between his legs made it worse. He remembered the pain, the way he was hovered over and made small in the shadow of the beast. Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to try and think of other things. Geralt had been kind to him, sweet with him, honest with him. He had made up for what he did ten times over. If not more. Why? Why did it have to come back now? 

Jaskier's breathing became more erratic, more shallow. He prayed silently that Geralt wouldn't notice. But the Obrońca had sharp senses and noticed the change. He paused and softly touched Jaskier's cheek as if to ask him if he was okay. Jaskier opened his eyes, looking into molten gold and the silent hope in them. All the love that Geralt had for him was visible in his eyes and Jaskier didn't want to disappoint him. Despite his discomfort and against his better judgement, Jaskier smiled and nodded. Desperately trying to push those thoughts away. Geralt didn't seem convinced however, he only needed to lean down and press a single kiss on the bite mark he left before it had Jaskier crawling backwards, out from under Geralt's touch.

Geralt had noticed, when he touched Jaskier, when he kissed him, the minute he moved over the boy something changed. And though Jaskier didn't want to admit it, the Obrońca could not, in good conscious, continue what they were doing. So when Jaskier stubbornly assured him he could keep going, he was careful. He wanted to test the waters. The only way to do that was to pay attention to a part of Jaskier that he had been sensitive about before. It wasn't Geralt's intention to push his buttons, but it was the quickest way to find out if Jaskier was indeed forcing himself. And the second Geralt touched the bite mark with his lips, Jaskier broke and crawled out from under him. 

"Wait, wait."

Geralt let up immediately. He took the fur blanket and covered Jaskier with it, who's breathing was becoming erratic and panicked. He found his own breeches and quickly put them on.

"Jaskier, it's okay."

The boy however shook his head and started rambling.

"It's not. It's not okay. It's-... Dammit." 

He gripped the blanket tight while tears started to form in his eyes.

"I'm-... fine. I'm fine i just need a breather."

"Jaskier."

Geralt let the name roll of his tongue with affection but at the same time it was a bit of a scolding. Jaskier was still pushing it.

"No, i'm! I'm fine i.. I can do this."

"Jaskier. No."

Geralt slowly reached out a hand. Not wanting to spook Jaskier. He reached for Jaskier's hand and when his fingers touched Jaskier's, the boy's tears started to fall. It hurt Geralt to see him this way. But he needed to know that forcing it was not going to be good for either of them.

"I thought i was ready. Dammit! I thought i could-... That i wouldn't... You're not like that anymore! Why did it-... Why did i feel so... I know i'm safe with you! Why can't i just let go?!"

Jaskier started crying. He pulled the blanket tight around him as if he wanted to hide in it and something in Geralt broke. He hated seeing Jaskier like this. He shook his head. Wanting to reply but no amount of words he knew in Jaskier's language could tell the boy how wrong he was for trying to push it. Or that it was okay to not be ready. Or not being able to let go. Some things just took time. This was the first time they really got more intimate. Geralt hadn't expected it to run as smoothly as it did in the first place. This was not unexpected. He had hoped for better, but he could deal with this. He could deal with having to wait. He could deal with not doing this at all. But he could not let Jaskier put himself in harms way for this. He had already done so much each time Geralt felt lost and broken and had trouble with anything at all. Now that Jaskier was the one who felt broken, Geralt wanted to help him the way Jaskier had helped him so many times. With love and patience and understanding.

"Jaskier... hey... shh. There's... _Nie ma nic złego w czekaniu._ "

But before Geralt could even tell him more, Jaskier shook his head.

_"Tylko że ja nie chcę czekać!"_

"Jaskier-"

"No! _Chcę być z Tobą, chcę ciebie, chcę tego! Ufam ci i byłem taki pewny- Po prostu nie chciałbym cię rozczarować... ..._ It's not fair."

Jaskier balled his fist, squeezing the fur blanket so hard it almost looked like he could tear it apart in frustration. He tried to fight his tears but there were more coming each time he wiped them away. Geralt's eyes fell to a softness and his tense shoulders dropped.

"Oh Jaskier... Hey.. You're not.. _Nie zawiodłeś mnie. w porządku. Nie musimy się śpieszyć. Możemy zwolnić, możemy zaczekać, to twoja decyzja. Jaskier, to nie musi być dzisiaj._ "

Jaskier sniffled and finally when he wiped his tears, no new ones came. He reached out to Geralt and Geralt came to sit beside him. He made sure Jaskier stayed wrapped in the blanket as he wrapped an arm around the boy. Holding him against him but in a comforting way. Hugging him softly. 

"I don't want you to hurt yourself. If you're not ready you're not ready."

Geralt pressed a soft kiss on Jaskier's head. The brunette sighed and leaned his head against Geralt. Having calmed down a little. 

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. _Ja… chciałbym być z tobą, bo ty sam tego chcesz. I poczekam na ciebie, tyle ile trzeba._ "

" _Dziękuję._ _Kocham Cię,_ Geralt _._ "

"I love you too Jaskier. Just allow yourself the need for more time. Okay? It's okay. I'm not going anywhere."

Geralt reached for Jaskier's clothes and gave them back to him. Jaskier put them on in silence. Crawling back into Geralt's hold clothed and wrapped in a blanket. And despite what just transpired he wanted to sleep in Geralt's arms. The Obrońca pulled him close and they hugged and laid like that until finally they fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * -There's nothing wrong with waiting.  
> -But I don't want to wait!  
> -I want to be with you, I want you, I want this! I trust you and i was so sure- I don't want to disappoint you.  
> -You didn't disappoint me. There's no need to rush, We can slow down, We can wait. Jaskier we don't have to do this today.  
> -I… I’d like to be with you but only if you want it too. And I will wait for you to be ready, as long as it takes.  
> -Thank you. I love you.
> 
> A/N: I know! I know. You were waiting for the hot and heavy. And now this. I'm sorry! but everything will be fine!


	35. Chapter 35

Geralt had said nothing about their struggle the following days. He didn't bring it up even though Jaskier still felt bad for what happened. But Geralt had made it clear that Jaskier needed to take his time. That he shouldn't force himself into anything. It was a difficult thing for Jaskier to accept. What if he was never ready? What if he couldn't get over it? He didn't want that to get in the way.

They resumed their daily routine like usual. It didn't effect their life in such a way. Still, it didn't stop Jaskier from thinking about it. Thinking about the possibilities and ways he could try and get over his flashbacks. There had to be a way. Maybe Geralt could wait forever, but Jaskier was human. He didn't want to wait years before he could finally give himself to Geralt fully. He didn't have that kind of time. It was a silly thought, Geralt would say. Because Jaskier only just turned 18 and he had a full life ahead of him. But Jaskier's counter argument would be that already a few life threatening situations had happened. And could possibly happen again. It had been a long time since their battle with Stregobor. But knowing the sorcerer had survived and not having heard from Cahir for months didn't leave any guarantee that it was over. 

The winter days turned colder and colder and often Jaskier would completely curl up and tuck himself away against Geralt's warm body. Geralt did what he could to make their home warmer. But even with all the adaptations, it was still a cave. High up in the mountain. There was only so much he could do. So instead he helped Jaskier to craft warmer clothes. Breeches and a tunic made out of warm and soft pelts. When he wore all those warm clothes Jaskier felt a little bit like he was a bear. But he loved the warmth and softness of the clothes and it even made him feel a bit tough. With the breeches, his tunic, the boots and the cape and even a pair of hand covers, he could face the cold just fine. Good thing too, considering it had started to snow non stop for three days. Thankfully it was no blizzard, but even the soft flowing weather had been able to turn the entire forest white. A crystal landscape that looked completely different from the green roof and flowery carpet in summer. Jaskier worried for the crops they had planted. He hoped they would survive the winter. They went to check on the patch of land every other day. To make sure it wouldn't be vandalized by critters or buried in snow.

Their fresh food had run out. Fruits and other items that couldn't be preserved for very long. Which made the meals somewhat more similar. More meat and things like stew. Potatoes, bread. Some vegetables still remained but it wasn't a lot. Jaskier couldn't complain. At least he had dinner every night and Geralt always made sure there was enough. Even if they had to eat more meat then usual to fill up the part of the meal that would have been fruit or vegetables instead. With any luck this was the last winter Geralt had to live this way. Often Jaskier just felt this wave of sadness come over him if he thought about how the Obrońca had survived all these years. But then he instantly felt better when he realized it didn't have to be like that anymore. Slowly Geralt was also teaching Jaskier how to track small animals and hunt. It was difficult. Especially considering Jaskier didn't have such sharp senses as Geralt seemed to have. Nor carried himself with such stealth that he remained unnoticed until the last moment. He was better at fishing. Which he gladly did when they decided they wanted something else then meat for dinner once in a while. 

* * *

Jaskier sat, covered in his furs and pelts and warm clothing, on the edge of a stream that he frequently fished at. He had a line out and was patiently waiting till one of the large fish would bite. Jaskier was of opinion they teased him sometimes, by biting and then quickly spitting the bait out and swimming away. They were dark of color and there for harder to spot between the dark rocks of the stream's bottom. And sometimes they would lay very still so he couldn't spot them at all. Or swam right passed his line, turning their noses up for the bait that he used. As if they required a better lure then what he had. Still, one or two or perhaps even up till four fish always got fooled. And Jaskier was patient enough to wait for those fish to bite. 

Geralt was a few stone throws further. Chopping wood for the fire, while Płotka grazed at a few grass patches close by that were left sticking out of the snow. And if she couldn't find any she would let the snow melt around her feet, using her flames to expose more grass out of the frosty carpet. Jaskier felt something tug on his line and with success he raised a fish from the surface of the water. He reached out to grab it when a fox sprinted out of the bushes and grabbed it between it's teeth. With the fish tightly crunched between it's jaws it ran off and snapped the line.

"Hey!"

Jaskier yelled. Geralt looked up but when he saw the fox run he returned to the wood chopping. Jaskier could deal with a fox himself. Geralt would only step in if Jaskier was in danger or if the boy asked him for help. Jaskier preferred it that way. Wanting to be independent as much as he wanted to do things together. Geralt had been teaching Jaskier how to hunt small critters so he was curious to see if Jaskier would catch the fish thief. 

Jaskier dropped his line and jumped up, following after the fox who ran away with the fish still squirming in it's mouth. Jaskier ran full speed, in pursuit of the little thief, to teach it a lesson. The fox was quick though and reduced to just a red flash with a fluffy white tail tip, speeding between the bushes. Jaskier could barely keep up. When he almost had the furry creature, he slipped on an iced over root and fell on his hands and knees on the snowy ground. Nearly getting a face full of it as he barely avoided diving head first into the forest floor. Jaskier huffed and blew his hair out of his face. It was getting longer. He'd ask Geralt to cut it for him soon. 

Then his eyes were drawn towards a darker patch on the white path. Jaskier pushed himself up to get a better look. The fox and the fish forgotten as the realization of what he was looking at dawned on him. It was blood. Red patches scattered in a sloppy trail towards a silhouette laying crumbled down a few feet away. Jaskier had to squint his eyes to see the dark figure against the white of the landscape, but he soon grasped details, making it out to be a person. A heavily wounded person. Jaskier only took two steps closer before he spotted black clothes and a mop of blonde hair that was dirty and messy but unmistakable. 

"GERALT!" 

Jaskier screamed as he ran towards the figure laying on the path. He grabbed the man by his shoulder to turn him around only to see his hands come away red with blood stains on them. The Obrońca had responded right away to Jaskier's screaming and came bursting through the bushes with the firemare in tow. Jaskier looked up from the figure he was crouched beside.

"It's Cahir! He's not responding. He lost a lot of blood."

Jaskier turned toward the man on the ground. Cahir was still breathing thankfully, but his breathing was quick and shallow. And he rasped here and there. Which was not a good sign. Geralt had stopped a few feet away while Płotka paced uneasily between him and Jaskier. The boy turned around to him.

"Geralt we have to help him."

Jaskier urged. Geralt looked from Jaskier to Cahir and back and then at his feet. He couldn't get any closer. Not without some adjustments. Cahir was after all still carrying an Obrońca's heart. 

"I can't get any closer. Jaskier, the medallion."

Jaskier's hands immediately went to his neck, clutching around the chain of the medallion that Geralt had given him. He always wore it -during the day at least-. But now Geralt needed it more. So he scrambled to get it off and toss it to the Obrońca.

"Here!"

Geralt took the medallion and hung it around his neck. Feeling the effects of it subduing whatever urges he got, the closer he moved to Cahir. He quickly made his way over. Checking over the man to make a rough estimation of his injuries. They were extensive. 

"We need to bring him inside. His clothes are already soaked. He'll die if we leave him exposed to the elements."

Geralt spoke while he hooked his arms under Cahir's weak body. Lifting the man from the ground. In his weakened and wounded state he didn't give off the same level of threat Geralt felt when they first met. He could have attacked Cahir back then. If Jaskier hadn't stopped him he probably would have. But it seemed he was able to move past a big part of that this moment. Jaskier followed Geralt closely, who carried Cahir up the path to their home to get him out of the snow. Bringing him inside the cave was a risk. Geralt knew that. It was a territorial thing. But Jaskier's presence and Cahir's condition changed the situation. And thus also changed the way Geralt's instincts reacted. 

Geralt put Cahir down on the bed while Jaskier quickly searched for a bowl of water and pieces of clean cloth. There wasn't much of the second but he scraped together whatever he could find. Geralt put a hand against Cahir's head, the latter was still unresponsive. 

"He's burning up. We need to get him out of these clothes and into dry ones. He'll freeze before he bleeds out."

Geralt started with stripping Cahir of his snow drenched clothes while Jaskier put everything he found next to the man and turned to the fire to make it burn brighter. When he turned back, Geralt had taken off Cahir's shirt and the full extend of his injuries became visible.

"Oh my god.."

Jaskier stared at it in horror. It looked like Cahir had been tortured. And he didn't have to make any wild guesses to imagine by who. This had Stregobor written all over it. There was no end to the sorcerer's cruelty. When Geralt proceeded to take the rest off of him it quickly appeared that little of Cahir's body was spared from injury. His legs were full of cuts and bruises too. Perhaps not as deep or extensive as his torso, but it was bad enough. Jaskier was too shocked to process the image of Cahir naked. Too focused on nursing the wounds, some of which were older, some of which were fresh and some of which were still bleeding. There were deep purple marks around his wrists and ankles, indicating he had been restrained and that he had fought against his bonds until he bled. How long had he been captive? 

Jaskier shook his head, almost in tears.

"We never should have let him go after Stregobor on his own. This... This is-"

Geralt placed a hand on Jaskier's shoulder and squeezed gently.

"We couldn't have stopped him. He made his choice. But we can help him now. I'll find him some clothes, you keep tending to his wounds."

Jaskier nodded quickly as Geralt stood up and moved away to find Cahir a set of clothes. At least something to put on his lower half so he wouldn't be naked. The rest of him could be covered with a blanket once they treated him. Jaskier did his best to stop the bleeding. Sighing relieved as it seemed to work. From there he worked to carefully clean the wounds. Geralt returned with a set of his old clothes and a bowl filled with leaves and a berry paste Jaskier recognized as the salve Geralt gave him before to use on his shoulder. Together they treated Cahir's wounds and made sure to bind them carefully. Every now and then Geralt had to take a breath to steady himself, but it seemed his reaction to Cahir's presence was a lot less severe as it was when they were in Sodden Keep. When they were finally done, Jaskier found that his own hands were red stained completely.

"To think he dragged himself all the way up here... Why would he do it?"

Jaskier mumbled as he took a bowl of clean water and a rag to try and clean up Cahir's hair a little.

"Maybe he felt he had no where else to go. After Sodden Keep, it doesn't surprise me." 

Geralt hummed while he gathered Cahir's clothes into a pile and dropped them in a basket. They needed to be washed and dried. But that could be done later.

"Do you think he'll make it?"

Jaskier asked while he carefully brushed the dirt out of Cahir's hair with a wooden comb. Geralt looked down at the man but his face carried no good news. 

"Renfri's heart is strong, It kept him alive thus far, but even an Obrońca can't hold out forever. Moreover, some of his older wounds are on the verge of infection. If that really takes off with all the blood loss he suffered it could kill him. I don't have the skills nor the tools to help him any further. He needs a healer."

Jaskier's eyes turned from Geralt back to Cahir. His lip caught between his teeth with worry. 

"I could ride to the south village to get someone."

Jaskier suggested, but Geralt shook his head. 

"No healer in his right mind will come up here because of me. And Cahir can't be moved. I'll have to call on someone i haven't seen in a long time. I'm not sure how she'll respond if i ask for help."

Jaskier frowned.

"She?"

Geralt nodded. A slight discomfort ran over his features.

"She's not exactly a healer. But i know she can help. She did it for me once."

This surprised Jaskier. All this time Geralt hadn't really talked about his encounters outside of the ones that the five-year sacrifices had given him. With the exception of some stories of hunters and mercenaries as stories accompanying the explanation as to how he got certain scars. But he never really talked about other encounters. Or even... Passed lovers. Jaskier could guess why. Perhaps Geralt didn't talk about it because he didn't want to upset Jaskier. And truth be told, the boy had to admit he didn't like to think about Geralt being or having been with anyone else. But that was the truth and the history of the Obrońca's life. Jaskier knew he wasn't the first. And up to a certain point, he could deal with that. He just didn't know how he'd feel if he encountered one of Geralt's passed lovers. If that is even what she was, he couldn't jump to conclusions. But then again, there was something in the way Geralt said it that made Jaskier suspect it was indeed the case.

"So... If she's not a healer... She's a sorceress? Or a witch?"

Geralt hesitated but then he shook his head.

"Neither. She's a Necromancer."

Jaskier paled at the thought. But then he reminded himself that he couldn't judge someone by stories told of them. Geralt had been completely different from the monster stories people hung up, so he couldn't believe in the horror stories people told about necromancers, could he?

"A... Oh... Okay. Uhm... I've never actually met one. But if she can help, i won't argue against it."

Jaskier's words came out a little uncertain, but Cahir's survival and health depended on it. And it was more important then his own judgement or hesitations or his feelings on the matter. Geralt nodded.

"I will send her a summons right away. Wait here."

He stood, grabbed a few things from around the cave and disappeared through the green vine curtain of the entrance. Jaskier pulled his knees up and hugged them as he looked at Cahir's sleeping face. He looked pale and starved and exhausted. Gods only knew what had happened to him and how long this had been going on. Jaskier knew they hadn't seen each other for months. And he was worried that whatever had happened had been happening for longer then he wanted to think about. 

After a long moment, Geralt came back in. Jaskier looked up hopeful. But all Geralt had to say was:

"Now we wait."


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So guess who had to get tested for the virus we all know and hate. Yup. Me. Because in my line of work a common cold is reason enough for alarm. So even if you have hay-fever or just a cold you absolutely need to get tested. self quarantine both sucks and gives me time to do other things. And I've been nothing but careful since day one so i really, really didn't like the fact that i had to go and get a test. Because i'm a person who is troubled by hay-fever AND around this time of year, i always get a sore throat and runny nose. I get this every year. But now it's suddenly a bad sign. Well shit. Thankfully the test came back negative so i can get back to work asap. No need to worry. ;)

* * *

Jaskier had been sitting by Cahir's side for over an hour. His breathing had improved at least a little, but the man was still unresponsive and his heart rate was slower then it should be. Geralt had send a summoning to the Necromancer who was suppose to come and help them. But there had been no response until now. Geralt seemed to be convinced she'd show up. But Jaskier felt more anxious the longer it took. Cahir's life was depending on this visit. The longer it took, the more danger he was in of slipping. So Jaskier stayed by his side to watch him and make sure he was comfortable. Geralt helped out by getting their home in order. Making food and making sure the Necromancer would have everything she needed once she got here. No doubt she'd also take her own things but it never hurt to be prepared. 

Geralt had watched Jaskier fuss over Cahir for a bit. It made him realize once again just how caring Jaskier was. How big his heart really was and how a kind and morally right person like him was getting harder and harder to find these days. He had been lucky in a way to have Jaskier come into his life when he did. It had only been a year, not that long compared to the rest of Geralt's life, but the Obrońca could hardly imagine being on his own again. He got so used to having Jaskier around, to share everything with him, that he had trouble remembering how exactly he managed to fight his way through life alone. Well... Not completely alone. Płotka had been around for many years. But it wasn't the same thing.

Speaking of the firemare, Geralt also went outside to calm her. She seemed restless and rather tense since they found Cahir on the path. Despite her previously not particularly liking him or even allowing him on her back, she was intelligent enough to recognize that Cahir was a friend and helped save Geralt. And thus she was rightfully worried over the situation the latter was in. She felt concerned for Cahir's well being despite not being so attached to him as she was to Geralt and Jaskier. Płotka kept pacing around in front of the entrance, standing still only to perk her ears and listen to any changes from inside. If there were no confirmed changes then she resumed her pacing. Once Geralt made sure she was not extremely stressed out, he allowed her to pass the time with this. It was her way of dealing with the situation. 

When Geralt came back inside, Jaskier was putting a wet cloth on Cahir's head. He wasn't as still as before, he shivered and squirmed a little, but remained unconscious. Jaskier looked up.

"He developed a fever. Even with the fire and the blankets i have trouble keeping him warm. He keeps shivering. I'm worried Geralt. Are you sure she'll show up?"

Geralt walked over and sank on his knees to make sure Cahir was properly covered in the fur blankets. They needed to keep him warm. Even with the fever he had now gotten. Especially with the fever. If he was sweating and exposed to cold air he could develop a severe case of hypothermia. With his injuries that would kill him for sure. 

"She'll be here. But she's a fickle woman. She comes when she deems it time. Not before or after."

Jaskier shook his head, displeased with the answer.

"He could be dead by then."

Geralt sighed and pushed himself up again, an idea forming into his mind. 

"No, he won't be. She'll be here in time. I know it doesn't seem like it. But you have to trust that she knows what she's doing. She can sense these things. Hold on. I think i know a way to keep him warm."

Geralt returned outside to Płotka. Taking her big head in his hands he softly spoke into her ear. Assuring her of what his plan was. And without protest she seemed to agree. He moved to the entrance and pushed the greenery out of the way for her. She stepped in slow, looking around, sniffing. It wasn't that she didn't trust her surroundings. But being as big as she was, she still preferred the open plains as opposite to the stone walls she found herself entering. Besides that, in all these years that she had been friends with Geralt, she had been respectful of his home and entered only three or four times under specific circumstances. She never set foot in his home otherwise. A firemare simply didn't belong indoors. This situation however called for a different approach and solution.

Płotka stepped around the fire and around Cahir's body carefully. Geralt helped her to get in the right position. He murmured to her, to ease her. She nosed at Cahir first, getting no response made her whinnie softly. Then she slowly sank through her legs and laid down beside Cahir's body. Geralt and Jaskier helped to push him so he was laying against her warm form. Being warmer then any usual horse helped a great deal in this situation. On the other side the fire was still burning and Geralt added a bit more wood to make it brighter again. The rest of Cahir, except for his head, was covered with the thick furs. Płotka laid still, allowing the shivering form pressed against her to get acclimated to the warmth. Cahir stopped shivering quickly. Jaskier seemed surprised but happy at the solution and fed Płotka a carrot while telling her what a good girl she was. He thanked her. And she snorted softly and pushed her head against Jaskier, who scratched her velvety nose softly.

* * *

Another hour seemed to crawl by slowly before there was finally a sign of arrival. A light seeped in between the vines covering the entrance. As well as a high pitched sound like the singing of a crystal. Jaskier listened and watched in wonder. He knew magic was very much real. But he had seen little of it up close in action. The village he had lived in until he met Gerald had been small and far from other settlements. Magic was a thing rarely seen or used there. 

A circle materialized of glowing water drops it seemed, within it, the air seemed to shimmer and blur like the surface of water. A figure moved behind it and stepped forward. Pushing through the watery surface to emerge dry and in elegant style, clad in a black dress, with long black hair and vibrant violet eyes. She looked nothing like what Jaskier thought a necromancer would look like. But despite her appearance she did have a cold look in her eyes. A look that told you not to waste her time. she wouldn't take it kindly. Geralt seemed to feel somewhat uncomfortable by her presence. Although Jaskier could hardly pinpoint what exactly made it that way. 

"Where is he?"

She asked. Straight to the point and with a voice that flowed cold but with power. This was a woman who stood strongly in her own shoes. 

"In here."

Geralt replied. Jaskier looked up as she came closer. Studying her as she moved. She was graceful and yet carried a deadly aura. If he wasn't focused on Cahir so much, he would almost feel threatened by her. Płotka however felt threatened enough to jump up and move back outside. Away from the necromancer. She didn't pay any attention to the moving firemare or Jaskier at first. Her concerns only being the badly injured Cahir who looked pale and was breathing shallow. 

"I need a deer. No. A buck. A big one."

She said without looking up from Cahir. She peeled the fur blankets away and inspected him further. But in her mind she must have known already what it would take to save him. Geralt stood up without a word and left the cave to go find her a buck. Which left Jaskier with her and Cahir and a lot of questions.

"Is he going to make it?"

Jaskier dared to ask softly. She then looked up, only just seeming to register his presence. 

"If he has the will to keep going he will find his way back."

Jaskier frowned at the answer. It wasn't something he expected to hear and it sounded kind of cryptic. He didn't know what it meant. Did it mean that if Cahir was tired enough he'd die even with her help? If that was the case then Jaskier worried. He already lost Renfri. That was enough to make it questionable whether Cahir wanted to keep going or not. Unless he still wanted revenge for Renfri's death there wasn't much keeping him here. 

"You worry for him."

The necromancer said it softly. In a tone that was laced with much more warmth then her previous words. 

"Of course i do. He's my friend. And without him i wouldn't have been able to save Geralt. Who knows what would have happened?"

To this news she frowned.

"Save him?"

Jaskier nodded.

"He was caught by Stregobor. A sorcerer who is trying to gain immortality and become an Obrońca by killing one in a ritual. We barely escaped from him last time. He used this plant to keep Geralt sedated-"

"Vermillion."

Jaskier stopped talking and looked at her in surprise. He nodded. 

"A wonder. Since an Obrońca under threat will kill anything that threatens it. Yet this man carries one's heart. Geralt could have killed him."

Jaskier remembered the urge of the large wolf to tear Cahir apart. He had barely been able to keep him from doing so. By an unconventional method one might add. 

"Believe me, he wanted to. He was ready to. But i stopped him in time."

To this her eyes seemed to light up in wonder and surprise and skepticism alike. 

"You... stopped him?"

Jaskier looked up at the tone of her voice. Did he say something wrong? 

"I... Yes i did."

"How?"

Jaskier grew a blush. There was no way he was telling her that! He looked away when he told her but she must have sensed the truth some how. Because even as he only told her the obvious part, she chuckled.

"I put myself between them."

"I imagine you did more then that considering he didn't kill you for getting in the way. Nothing can stop a grown Obrońca, especially not a Wilczy when he has set his mind to kill."

Jaskier's eyes widened in surprise at this new bit of information. But before he could ask anything else, Geralt came in with a large bleeding buck. 

"We will talk about this later. I have questions for you little one." The necromancer stated. Then she took a look at the buck.

"Tell me you left it breathing, otherwise this is pointless."

Geralt placed the buck, who was unconscious yet rapidly breathing next to Cahir where the necromancer could reach it.

"I know what i'm doing Yennefer. Will this one do?"

She let a hand rest on the buck's neck and closed her eyes.

"Yes. This one is fine. Now let me work."

Jaskier scooted back to give her space. The necromancer 'Yennefer' as Geralt called her, put herself between the Buck and Cahir and let a hand rest on each body. Forming a bridge between them. She inhaled and started murmuring a chant of old language. It sounded dark and ominous as she whispered the words rapidly in a chain of sentences that Jaskier couldn't understand. Geralt pulled Jaskier a bit further back and though he sat with the boy, he looked away. Jaskier couldn't look away. His eyes were glued to the ritual that was taking place in front of him. He watched as whatever spell Yennefer was casting seemed to take Cahir's injuries one by one and released them on the Buck instead. The creature started bleeding more and more as the injuries increased while Cahir's injuries lessened. Strangely, Jaskier understood her way of working. It was a life for a life. A thing most necromancers did not seem to understand as well as she. And healing one with that kind of power would not come without cost. Another vessel was needed to carry the burden of the sustained injuries. Or even die in the person's place.

The buck started trashing, waking and making noise. Crying in pain and fear. Jaskier couldn't take it. Those were awful sounds. And though it was dangerous and he could very well be injured by the animal, he approached it. 

"Jaskier no."

Geralt tried to hold him back but the boy pressed forward. Kneeling beside the animal and taking a hold of it's head. Pulling it into his lap. Shushing it and murmuring to it. Singing softly to ease the animal's suffering. The buck seemed to calm down on Jaskier's lap. Still panting fast and irregularly. But it's wide eye was trained on Jaskier and it's ears perked to listen to the boy's gentle words and soft singing. Geralt gazed at it in wonder. Yennefer kept casting her magic until Cahir was fully healed. She eyed Jaskier for a moment before she placed both hands on the buck. 

"It's dying."

Jaskier looked at her and back to the buck. Somehow he had expected it, but it still made his eyes water. 

"shh. shh it's okay. It's okay boy. You did good. You saved my friend. I'm so grateful. Shh. It's okay. Go to sleep. It's okay." 

Jaskier whispered to the animal while the tears blurred his vision. Yennefer produced a dagger from the belt around her dress and reached underneath the buck. 

"To the heart it will be quick and painless. This animal has suffered enough."

She said. Jaskier nodded and kept comforting the animal even as Yennefer pushed the dagger deep into the buck's heart. The animal trashed once or twice more before it stilled. It's head heavy on Jaskier's lap. Jaskier used his sleeve to wipe the tears from his eyes and stroked the poor buck's neck for a while. Geralt came to sit beside him and wrap his arms around Jaskier. The boy sighed softly.

"I knew it would die the moment Yennefer started chanting. But i couldn't let him suffer on his own."

Jaskier sniffled. Geralt nodded and smiled softly. 

"I know Jaskier. I know. That's who you are. If you see suffering you won't stand idly by. You did the same for me. Your heart is just too big for this world. And i think the buck sensed it too."

Jaskier turned his eyes to Cahir, who now looked as if he was peacefully sleeping.

"What about Cahir? Is he okay now?"

Yennefer wove a hand over the man's body.

"I have healed him physically. But his mind and spirit were injured as well. He needs to recover from that too. He needs to bring himself back to consciousness. All we can do now is wait."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I know it's a tear jerker. I'm a horrible person. magic has a price. I didn't make those rules! it's magic law 101)  
> *Spoiler* Cahir will be okay.
> 
> I realize things progress in the story but it kind of doesn't fit the summary anymore. So i might work towards Geraskier's first time, and continue this story in a sequal. Considering i like this story too much to just break it off. But it irritates me that the summary just doesn't cover the story anymore. (that's because you had something simple planned but as ALWAYS you deviate from that plan mr. author. This is your fault) yeah... i know. i kinda fell in love with the world i was building aaand... expansion happened. So... sequal. I'll notify and link to it when it happens. If anyone still wants to read that.. For now i still have a few chapters left for this one.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: do i talk too much about unrelated or real life things?. It can be annoying to over share i understand that it's not for everyone. I'll try not to do it too much.

* * *

Geralt took it upon himself to take the buck away and clean the animal up. Sad as it was, it's death was not in vain. They could use the meat to eat, the skin to make clothes, the bones for tools etc. The animal served it's purpose for multiple things. Not letting anything go to waste. Geralt was a firm believer of only killing what you needed for food or other things. And that you had to make it count. He could never agree with humans who killed simply for sport only to let the animals rot in the sun or even more horribly mount the heads on their wall. And considering Jaskier had spilled tears for the passing of this animal, Geralt even treated it with more care then he usually did. And he treated all his kills with care, even after death. 

Inside, Jaskier sat by Cahir's side. Watching over him with more ease now then he had a couple of hours ago. Yennefer had helped herself to something to drink and eat and came to sit beside him with a curiosity in her violet eyes.

"He loves you."

Jaskier blinked and turned toward her.

"What?"

She smiled and turned her own look towards the fire.

"Geralt. He loves you. You are the world to him."

Jaskier felt a blush heat his face and he too quickly turned his eyes to the fire. 

"How can you tell?"

She toyed with the clay cup between her fingers while she kept her gaze fixed on the fire.

"It's in his eyes. I've seen that kind of look before. But not with the amount of power that his gaze holds. You said you stopped him from killing. No one has ever been able to do that. Unless the person stopping the Obrońca is worth more to them than life itself. That kind of love is rare for creatures like him. Finding that type of depth in a human is even rarer. Usually such a bond occurs more quickly between Obrońca and some type or form of magic wielders. Be it sorcerors, witches, magi or even necromancers such as myself. To find it in a human without link to a source of power is extremely rare."

Jaskier was silent. He didn't know what to say. Yes they had confessed to one another, He knew Geralt loved him. But to hear it ran so deep. That was another thing entirely. It went above his level of understanding. Their meeting wasn't even suppose to have gone the way it did. If the village had decided on another they would never even have met. Would he still hold that deep of a meaning if Geralt had met him under different circumstances? 

"But he's lived such a long time. Surely he has loved someone else before."

The idea stung, but it was a question that Jaskier needed to ask. It would seem a strange concept to him if he was the only one invoking such a reaction. It was almost too much to hope for really. It sounded like a myth. Like something out of a bedtime story or a fairytale. 

"If he ever did then not like this. Perhaps he has cared. But love and care are two different things. When Obrońca love, they love deeply and truly. And more purely than any other species. If they love another Obrońca it could even overpower the violent instincts towards one another. The fact that he is still alive proves it. The fact that you can stop him proves it. It's not just the man, but the beast too. Did he mark you anywhere?"

Jaskier's hand almost flew up to his shoulder. He raised it and consciously let his fingers run over that mark on the border of his neck and shoulder. 

"Was he conscious when he did that? Was he in control?"

Jaskier didn't like remembering that particular night. But if he allowed himself to think about it, he could answer truthfully. 

"No."

Yennefer let her violet eyes rest on the mark before they slid back to Jaskier's face. Looking at him with a gaze that reflected both understanding and questions.

"Because it was instinctual. Obrońca can sense things that are out of this world. They are much more adapt at finding their life partners then we are. Even if their human forms do not comprehend this, it's the animal inside that feels it when their other half is nearby. And thus bring forth the strong urge to lay claim on them. Lest they pass up the opportunity and live their lengthy lives in misery."

Jaskier's eyes widen at the revelation. This was before he or even Geralt knew it themselves! The wolf had known it from the start, even though he was inside of the same person who had no idea and no control. Yennefer carefully took Cahir by an arm and rolled him a bit onto his side. Hidden just beneath his arm, on the level of his ribcage there was a mark. A scar. Something of a teeth print that looked old. Renfri.... She must have done that to him when they were together. She must have sensed it.

"She would never have let Stregobor cut her heart out if she didn't think it would protect him. Even with Vermillion, you've seen how Geralt can fight when the moment matters. No matter the type of Obrońca, they all have that type of survival instinct and strength. There is a reason humans call them monsters. When threatened, they are capable of inhuman things."

Jaskier looked at the mark in wonder. 

"How do you know? How did you know he has her heart?"

Yennefer turned her violet eyes to Jaskier and pulled down the left shoulder of her dress. There was a small scar above the area of her heard and a set of teeth prints on her collarbone. 

"Takes one to know one."

Jaskier stared at the scars for a good minute before he gathered himself and shook his head.

"You were marked... and you have their heart?"

Yennefer pulled her dress straight again and smiled.

"And she has mine. I exchanged them. We're tied to each other now more then ever. Necromancers like me live longer then humans. But never as long as Obrońca can. The exchange of our hearts was a new and unconventional method. But it bound us together and pulled our lifespans into the same length. Now we can be together for the span of our lives without having to worry one will outlive the other. Unless one of us is killed, we will live and die together, as one."

Jaskier took the story in with wide eyes. Honestly he had never really realized that this was all temporarily. That he and Geralt would not age at the same pace. Or that there was a way around it. Be it a bloody and painful way to do so. But Yennefer and her lover had found a way to make it work. They equaled their time in this world and the idea alone was just so bewildering to Jaskier. He never really realized that he would not live as long as Geralt. But to consider doing something so drastic... He wasn't sure if he could make that kind of decision. Or if Geralt would even let him. Even with the way they felt about one another.

Jaskier let his eyes rest on Cahir's sleeping form. Poor Cahir. If things had gone differently. He could have had the same thing. But now he had Renfri's heart beating inside him. And his life had lengthened to an unknown time. All for what? His love was gone. Slain by a sorcerer who desired only to be a god. It angered Jaskier as well as it saddened him. And it shocked him at the same time to know there were more people who had their hearts ripped out of them to be replaced by a different one. All these emotions made his head spin. 

"He'll suffer so much longer..."

Jaskier murmured. Yennefer side eyed him with a questioning look. 

"Cahir he... his life is lengthened right? Because of Renfri's heart?"

Yennefer nodded. 

"But she's gone. He will have to live without her all that time." 

Jaskier didn't notice Yennefer opened her mouth to speak only to halt when Geralt entered the cave again. Jaskier looked up, his eyes meeting Geralt's and for some reason he felt extremely conscious now. His fingers automatically travelled up to rub over the bite mark. He looked away quickly but his fingers traced the pattern on the junction of his shoulder and his neck.

Geralt put everything that he had taken from the buck away. But processing it had made him dirty and bloodied. It was winter, the small stream near their home was too cold now to wash off in. 

"I have to go to the spring to wash up. I won't be long."

Jaskier took a look at his own hands. They were just as dirty and bloodied from helping Cahir to caring for the dying buck. 

"I'll come with you."

He said. He got up but hesitate as he turned to look at Cahir.

"I'll stay with him"

Yennefer promised when she saw the look on Jaskier's face. The boy nodded and followed Geralt outside.

* * *

Together they traveled to the spring on foot this time. It wasn't as far as Jaskier thought, but maybe that was because they always took Płotka to go up. And she was so large she couldn't weave through small passages the way they could on foot. While they were walking, Jaskier was quiet. Trying to let everything that happened in the past couple of hours sink in. His hands were stained with red drying on his skin. It made him think about the time he had to clean up Geralt after they escaped from Stregobor. Cahir wasn't able to tell them what happened, but Jaskier could guess that the same man was responsible for Cahir's horrible injuries. If that was indeed the case, then the sorcerer was a lot closer then they initially thought. It meant their home was threatened and if he was smart enough and followed Cahir, then he'd be on their doorstep in no time to take Geralt captive again. And if the man got what he wanted, then there was no need to worry over who would outlive who. Geralt would not survive the ordeal. Jaskier feared for him. Which was ridiculous, Geralt was so strong, if anything it would be more logical to be worried for himself. But Jaskier knew Geralt had some weaknesses that could be manipulated enough for him to lose. Stregobor was not a man who played fair. 

"You're quiet. Did she say something to you?"

Geralt's voice broke through the rush of thoughts and pulled Jaskier out of it. 

"Oh.. Well, no i was thinking about what happened to Cahir. Do you think it's Stregobor's work?"

Geralt gained a grim expression on his features as he started walking a little closer to Jaskier. 

"I have no doubt in my mind it was him. Cahir reeked of dark magic. Those injuries weren't just made by weapons."

Jaskier shivered to think that magic could be capable of such devastation. 

"What if he was followed Geralt? What if Stregobor comes here to capture you again? We barely got away from him last time."

The Obrońca shook his head. 

"If he's smart he won't come for me. Us finding Cahir alerted us to any danger. It's easier to attack when it's least expected."

Jaskier looked down at his feet and his boots that sank into the snow a little each time he took a step. 

"That doesn't mean he won't try."

Geralt wrapped an arm around Jaskier and the boy couldn't help crawling into that hold. He didn't want Geralt to get hurt. And he didn't want to lose him. 

"We'll be ready."

Jaskier wanted to believe him. He really did. But he wasn't certain. And that uncertainty made something rise in him. Something that was hard to describe. Something that made him think in the most unconventional solutions to their problems. 

"What if... What if we make sure he can't get your heart? What if we hide it?"

Geralt huffed. 

"Did Yen talk nonsense to you?"

Jaskier shook his head.

"No she... she told me something that didn't occur to me before. We could.. We could switch your heart. Then Stregobor would have nothing. He wouldn't be able to use yours."

"and what do you propose we switch it with?"

Jaskier looked up. His blue eyes locking with Geralt's golden ones. 

"Mine."


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 08-11-2020: A/N: You guys make me so happy. Thank you all for being so kind. I really appreciate all the support. For this chapter I was struggling to put the right words on the page. Because i kept my private life and my career separate at first. But now i'm in the process of coming out as non-binary to the people i work with and it makes me very emotional. My feelings are all over the place, because i feel like crying, i'm super scared, but at the same time it's like coming up for air for the first time since forever and i'm relieved. I have so much i want to get off my chest but at the same time i realize this is not the time or place to do it. You are all here to enjoy the story. If you're curious, i will made a post on [Tumblr](https://noobtiedoo.tumblr.com/post/634075969644363776/coming-out) with the full story of why this makes me so emotional. If you're not interested, then by all means skip the personal stuff and start reading what you came here for.

* * *

"No. Absolutely not."

Jaskier had expected such a reaction. But not the abrupt chill in Geralt's voice when he shot the idea down immediately.

"But it could save your life!"

Geralt turned to Jaskier and shook his head.

"But it could endanger yours. You have no idea what you are proposing Jaskier."

The boy huffed and balled his fist. Looking up with fire in his eyes. Unafraid. Even after all this time it still send Geralt reeling with a type of emotion he couldn't really describe.

"I know that it's dangerous. But look at what Stregobor did to Cahir. We have the advantage. Cahir didn't know it was possible, and even then he had the wrong person to do it. If we do this we are one more step ahead."

"This isn't something you do for a strategic advantage Jaskier!"

Geralt seemed more frustrated the longer this conversation dragged on about this particular subject. But Jaskier wasn't going to let it go.

"I know! And it's not the only reason i suggested it."

"I don't care what reason you had, it's not happening."

Geralt turned to stomp his way through the openings of the spring before Jaskier could even get another word in. He huffed, stomped his foot down and marched in after Geralt. 

"Why are you so against it, if it could save your life?"

Jaskier asked while he tried to catch up to Geralt. They were on the edge of the whater when the Obrońca stopped so suddenly Jaskier nearly bumped into him. When Geralt turned to face him Jaskier froze. He had seen Geralt sad before, and in pain. But never quite on this level. 

"Can't you see what that will do to you? What if we go ahead and switch huh? And you end up like Cahir. I'm still an Obrońca. On instinct alone i could try to kill you. We would never be able to live in the same place again. You wouldn't be able to get close to me without me lashing out. I... I don't want to hurt you Jaskier. And i can't... _Nie mogę Cię stracić._ " 

The words struck something in Jaskier. A tug on a heartstring he didn't know could vibrate so intensely within him. Geralt didn't know... But he was afraid of the one thing that could never happen. His wolf wouldn't allow it. Jaskier searched Geralt's expression, but there was -like he predicted- no hint of knowledge on any other outcome of this plan. 

"Geralt.."

Jaskier said it softly. He reached out and took the Obrońca's head between his hands. 

"You won't lose me."

"How can you be so sure?"

Jaskier bit his lip. How could he best describe what he knew to convince Geralt that this wasn't just about an advantage. This was about so much more then that. 

"Do you remember the first time you met Cahir?"

Geralt's look darkened.

"I tried to kill him."

"Well yes, but... Remember what happened when you went to attack?"

"I uh..."

A light started to shine behind Geralt's eyes. He frowned at first thinking about it, but then his expression cleared and he looked at Jaskier in wonder.

"You... you stopped me."

"Exactly. Think about it. Fragile little me. A human. You could have swatted me aside like an annoying bug. You could have ignored me completely. You could have even killed me for being in your way -which, in your state was entirely possible- You saw red because you were poisoned."

Geralt grumbled releasing a tormented growl to the thought alone that he would hurt Jaskier.

"I would never-"

"Let me finish. Despite all of that, even your instincts. Something told you to listen to me and to stop. I was able to stop you because you managed to overcome your own instincts. Because there is more between us then you can see with your eyes. I learned something today. Something important. Something Yennefer taught me that even you didn't know."

Jaskier let go and let his fingers tug on the clasp of his cloak, the buttons of his doublet and the lace of his chemise. He bared his upper body and with it the bite mark that Geralt had placed there when they met. 

"We both misunderstood what this meant."

Jaskier let his fingers trail over the edges of the mark and it made him shiver. Now that he knew it's true meaning, somehow it didn't bother him anymore. In fact, he was kind of proud of it. He took Geralt's hand and let the large palm rest on the mark.

"You said you weren't conscious when you did this. But that wasn't true. A part of you was. The Wolf. The true spirit of an Obrońca Lasu. It recognized me. It saw me as what i could be. As what i am now. And what i will be. As a loved one. Perhaps even a soulmate. It knew before we knew, that we would love each other. That we were meant to find each other. And that kind of love can overpower any instinct of aggression."

Tears had begun to sting behind Geralt's eyes, slowly misting them over with a revelation that replaced guilt with understanding on such a deep level that it was an almost painful relief. He let his stained fingers slide over the mark. The scarred edges had been a painful reminder for him this whole time. But now for the first time he saw them in a new light. He did this because his wolf knew he wanted to be with Jaskier? How was that even possible? Did he really live so far removed from the nature of his true self that he didn't even know it could sense that? 

"This... I didn't do this to hurt you?"

Jaskier shook his head.

"No Geralt. You chose me. The wolf chose me. And now it's my turn to choose you." 

The boy took a step closer. They were almost pressed together now, but there was still space for Jaskier to put his still dirtied hand on Geralt's chest. 

"I am not you, i don't have an animal inside me that knows when to choose, who to choose. But I have a heart. And now that i know. Now that i'm certain. I want to be able to choose you too. That's perhaps the biggest reason for what i suggested before. Geralt... I want to give you my heart. It's already yours, but if it can save you then i want to give it to you."

The Obrońca looked up with worry, then his gaze softened to something so small and fragile you'd almost forget this was a beast who could tear a man in half. Then those golden eyes filled with love. And finally Geralt brought their heads together. Leaning his larger one against Jaskier's.

"You would really do this for me? You'd give me your heart?"

Jaskier leaned up, bringing them closer. His breath ghosted over Geralt's lips as he replied low and with a serious tone.

" _Ofiaruje Ci wszystko, co mam_ "

Geralt shivered from the words whispered to him and their meaning warmed him. He felt and heard the beast inside growl and purr with satisfaction until all sensations but one were drowned out by Jaskier's lips pressing on his.

"I love you"

The Obrońca replied. His arms came around the boy, locking him in a firm hug. Their bodies pressing together. Once again serving as evidence that Jaskier was still growing. His form having changed from the one he had when they met. He was stronger, taller, firmer build. His features were sharpening. The lines on his body less soft. Yet it felt like they fitted together now better then ever. They kissed until Geralt wanted to cup Jaskier's face and saw his hands were still stained with blotches of dried blood. He pulled back and chuckled when Jaskier chased him.

"Don't forget why we came here, Jaskier. Let's get into the water."

* * *

Jaskier had pulled a face when Geralt pulled back from him. His lips curled into a near pout. But with the reminder of the state they were in so subtly placed, he had to admit Geralt had the right idea. They needed a bath. Jaskier undressed fully and slid in the water first. Now that he knew how to swim it was easy for him to get around on his own. Yet he stayed near the shallows to wash his hands and arms and get his skin cleaned from al the dust, dirt and dried blood still clinging to it. It made his thoughts drift towards what had happened in the last few hours. And the consequences of his decision to offer his heart to Geralt. It was a risk. Perhaps it depended on the person who performed the switch, but Cahir had lost Renfri that way. Yennefer was still together with her significant other, but Jaskier and Geralt stood for the same challenge in a different way. Cahir was a grown man. Yennefer a Necromancer. Jaskier had no idea if his age would be of influence to how well this would take. Or if he was even strong enough to carry an Obrońca's heart. 

There were a lot of pro's and cons for this particular decision. It could give them the solution they needed. An edge to be at least one step ahead of the madness of that sorcerer. But on the other hand it could also form a problem. Jaskier believed fully that Geralt's territorial nature would not be an issue. The wolf in him had chosen. They were meant to be together. Even if Jaskier would suddenly carry the aura or sense of another Obrońca. But the problem would be the toll it would take on them. On the both of them. Because, even if it wouldn't form a problem for Jaskier, who was to say it wouldn't form a problem for Geralt? What if he was too old to switch his heart out? Neither of them knew exactly how old an Obrońca could get. There was no way to measure the length of a life span and there was no way to compare. 

It boiled down to the point that Jaskier realized this could go a lot of different ways. And it also made him think about all the things he would be missing if this per chance took a different path then they had planned. If things went sideways... there would be things he would miss out on. Things he'd never know. He didn't want to have any regrets. No matter how this would go, even if it all went fine and according to plan. He didn't want to take that chance. 

Geralt had stayed close to Jaskier. Washing his hands and arms in silence. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Jaskier offered him his heart. He knew Jaskier was brave. He had shown it plenty of times. But that was a new level of boldness he hadn't come across in a long time. The deep meaning of it touched him as well as it worried him. Switching hearts was no small matter. Geralt wasn't even sure how it worked. He would have to run the suggestion by Yennefer. And of course she would have her opinion about it. But if it could be done then Geralt trusted no one else to do it. Yennefer was gifted in ways other people could barely even begin to understand. And she wasn't like other necromancers at all. She kept a tight watch on the balance of life and death. 

Life and death... that very fact reminded Geralt of all the things that could go wrong. Even though he believed Jaskier fully when he told him of the true meaning of that bite mark and how Geralt wouldn't hurt him because they were meant to be. That didn't mean that if Geralt wasn't the culprit, that something else couldn't happen. Even so, he shouldn't think about it. He had to keep focused on the best outcome. On the good things that would happen if they did this. If all went well, he and Jaskier would be closer connected then ever. Closer then they ever had gotten before. It made Geralt think of that time where they had almost become intimate. Jaskier wasn't ready. Geralt had respected that and he hadn't tried again. It was the closest they had ever gotten. He wondered what would have happened if they hadn't left it at that. And in that very moment, Jaskier had to have been thinking about the same thing. Because Jaskier's voice broke his train of thoughts. And the words he spoke shocked him;

"I want to try again."

For a moment Geralt was stunned. He had no response at the ready, simply for the fact that those five words drew his mind into a blank state. The soft splashing of Jaskier bringing himself closer pulled him out of his daze and made him look up. 

"What.."

Was the only thing that left his lips. Jaskier's eyes were filled with something that Geralt had never seen before. A strange mix of determination, longing, hesitation and uncertainty. Contradicting emotions that had the boy ball his hands into a fist and bite his lip. Geralt shook his head.

"You don't have to."

But Jaskier took another step, the water rippling around his waist as he moved.

"But i want to."

Geralt recalled what happened last time they tried this. He was unsure if this would not call out the same results. After all... His actions when they met kind of put an obstacle between them. He knew fully well that it could possibly bring back memories from that time. Even if Jaskier had forgiven him and had long since moved passed it. 

"Here? Are you sure?"

Jaskier took another step. They were in arm's reach of each other now. 

"It's a different place. And i have different knowledge now. Maybe it won't be like last time."

Geralt frowned a little. It's not that he didn't want to. But Jaskier's sudden tense demeanor was reason enough for his mind to raise a red flag.

"Why now? What is going on?"

Jaskier bit his lip and remained silent while he shamefully looked at his feet through the shimmering surface of the water.

"Jaskier... Tell me. What's on your mind?"

Geralt urged him gently. He reached out with a hand, to take Jaskier's into his own. 

"I just... I don't want to have any regrets."

"What do you mean?"

"We don't know what is going to happen. You can't tell me you haven't been thinking about it too. What we discussed... The consequences of that decision... We don't know what's going to happen once we switch. What if we don't have a chance to try again? I don't want to take that risk. It's stupid, and it's not a good reason. And i shouldn't be doing this just because i'm scared i might never get to..."

Jaskier trailed off but Geralt knew exactly what he was talking about.

"It's not stupid. I'm scared too. Believe me, i understand. But like you said, you don't want any regrets. I just want to make sure you won't regret pushing for something you might not be ready for."

Jaskier took a deep breath and closed the distance between them.

"But that's just it. With everything that happened. And the time you gave me. I think... I want to try again. I think i'm ready now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I can't lose you.  
> *I give you all i have.
> 
> 11-11-2020 update: A/N: I'm very glad to say all my anxiety was unjustified as my co workers and my peers were all very calm and accepting about it. They were even happy for me that i can finally be me without being burdened by it. And they support me and even accepted using the pronouns that i feel suit me best. It may take some time to get used to, but i couldn't be happier.
> 
> 28-12-2020 update: I'm looking forward to the new year. As a final update to me coming out to my co-workers, i'm fully out now. and being fully supported at my work. I came out to my friends who also gave me their full support. and i came out to my parents who were a bit confused but they are trying very hard to understand. All in all i feel incredibly light and happy. Considering i've had this burden for years. Now i can finally start a new year as my true self. Unafraid and out of hiding. The way it's supposed to be. Thank you all for your support and though it's a little early: Happy new year!
> 
> 05-02-2021 update: I'm still working on the next chapter. It will be one you've probably all been waiting for. I meant to post last month. Or at least before my birthday. But that goal has escaped me. But it will appear soon! Probably somewhere in the weekend. Because it's already been too long.


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